Yo-Yo Downhill

Slipping indoors through the cat flap, my eyes landed on a thick clothbound dictionary slanting down from the armchair rung straight to the floorboards. Perched right at the crest was an old red wooden yo-yo with its braided string trailing over the edge. Did you honestly think I’d pass up a ready-made launch ramp? I clambered up the textured spine, hopped onto the twin wooden rims, and kicked off with both heels. Rattle-whirrr! The wheels shot down the steep incline like an erratic skateboard, spitting out coils of white cord before slamming squarely into the chair’s brass caster with a sharp clonk. I tumbled onto the rug on my belly, chuckling softly at my runaway ride.