Emmie and the Perfect Arc

There was a girl with brown eyes and long brown hair who lived in the big blue house on the corner with the swingset in the backyard.  I think we know who we are talking about but I’m not going to say her name.  Esmeralda.

“Emmie,” called her mom, “it’s getting on to dinner, come wash your hands.”

Emmie was at the top of her favorite arc and couldn’t reply just then.  The arc that would finally take her to the clouds.  The best of all possible arcs. The sky was right there. The blue – if it were any closer – would stain her yellow shirt with the pink crane over her heart, forever.  She was almost there.

“Ez Mer El Duh, did you hear me?”

Emmie was falling to Earth, the arc had passed. It had been her favorite arc.

“But there will be others. Maybe even better. Maybe arcs so perfect that…”

“Did you hear me, Esmeralda?”

Her mom slid open the patio door, holding a pair of tongs.

“Chicken, again?” Continue reading