The Polished Chute

I rolled up the grassy mound toward the wide toddler slide. Wobble left... click. Wobble right... halt. Before me lay a broad chute of polished stainless steel, dipping down in a clean, gleaming arc. No bumps. No seams. I crept to the crest, tilting side to side to gauge the angle. Safe slope. One firm lean of my curved belly forward—whoosh! A pure, frictionless glide. The cool metal hummed beneath my shell. At the bottom, the scoop leveled out, easing my momentum until I coasted softly onto the damp sand. Shhh-tap. Balance held. I swayed rhythmically in the morning light and chirped.