keep moving

In a pool. My blankets, sheets and quilt are heaped on the cement at the side of the pool. As I swim, I see the quilt slip off the pile and into the water. There is nothing to be done so I continue swimming.

I am angry with someone I care about. Rather than say anything, I lie belly down on a board, much like a surfboard without any fins, and slide down the hill, following the path. I race down at breakneck speed, shoot past trees and driveways, steer my board by leaning left or right until I swerve around a sharp bend and reach the busy road. Then I climb the hill toward the house, board under my arm, calm.