The girl, young and naïve and hapless, stared up mindlessly at the stars above. The light pollution from the nearest city reduced visibility, but the Big Dipper was still there if only barely, along with a small handful of it’s brightest neighbors. She felt nothing like the brightest. Any semblance she had had of lustre felt dulled, a brass idol muted by tarnish.
The swing set nearby was still since no children would be out playing past midnight. Or at least, you would hope they would be tucked into bed safely at home, but this neighborhood was not known for having the most doting parents. Overworked and underpaid and chronically exhausted, the adults of the neighborhood made sure their kids were fed at least once a day, weren’t bleeding, and attended school just often enough to avoid getting a call from the district for truancy. Asking for more than that was greedy. Her parents were the same way and while she was almost a legal adult, the fact of the matter was that she too was still a child and shouldn’t be sitting down on a swing as the clock struck 1 am.
Her red knock-off Converse kicked the mulch beneath her feet as she leaned her weight back, feet rising to cast the swing forward. Then she leaned forward and pulled her knees under her as the swing rocked backwards. The flexible plastic seat showed signs of dry rot from years of baking in the summer sun, but the chains looked much newer and didn’t squeak as it rocked. More likely than not, the last set of chains had been stolen by some ne’er-do-well and either the groundskeeper or a generous neighbor had replaced them so the kids would continue being able to use it.
There she stayed for what felt like a long time, swinging back and forth idly, casting her body’s weight to and fro in order to continue the pendulum movement. Her neck craned backward and her eyes kept watch of the dim stars, her ears full of the sounds of nearby traffic.
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