The Skates
By morning, the snow had melted.
As soon as she’d finished her coffee and toast, Raccoon set off, squelching through the mud toward Rabbit’s tree. All night, she had regretted walking past the patch of ice hiding in the shade and (if it was still there), she was now determined to take advantage of the opportunity.
And there it was, still flat and smooth and inviting.
Raccoon strapped on the skates she had found at the back of the hall closet earlier that morning and brought along — just in case. And she glided across the ice, laughing as she went.
(Late February 2024)
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