Down the Rail fun

I walked past the cellar doors toward the wide granite steps of the neighborhood library. Mounted beside the bottom riser was a low, polished brass handrail sloping gently down to the sidewalk. I climbed onto the stone pedestal and laid my plush belly flat against the cool metal cylinder. With a quiet push of my feet against the masonry, I let go. The brass was slick. I glided down the incline without a sound, the slight breeze pressing my long ears back. At the bottom, the rail curled into a wide horizontal finial that eased the slide to a halt. I remained perched on the knob, watching the midday pavement.