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.

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