I am a child, and it is recess.
My backpack is heavy as I walk to the swingset.
With each step, I can feel the weight of my backpack push me forward.
If I trot, it pushes me farther, and my feet lift slightly off of the ground.
I begin to circle the swing set, the soft gravel shifting beneath my feet.
I am running, and then my feet leave the ground.
I am circling the swings, the momentum of my backpack keeping me aloft.
Soon recess is over, and I am still orbiting the playground.
Drifting higher, out of reach.
The children are filing inside the building; no one notices my absence.
I slowly float away.