The neighborhood kids biked back and forth up and down our small street. Bounded by invincible lines-my driveway and the lamp post where the road curves back to the main street. Boundary lines probably drawn by their parents. Boundary lines dutifully followed. A brother and younger sister. They were practicing slide braking. Practicing cornering. Practicing taking their hands off the wheel. Her yellow dress fluttering when she picked up speed. Neither bothered by the size of their playground. Our small street widened to a universe.
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