by Joshua Perrett
The kids laugh as I fly off, climbing higher into the sky. I can feel the sun on my bare, round body, its heat intensifying with every inch I rise. I feel sorry for bald men in summer.
As I rise above buildings, I see a park full of children and dogs, their smiles visible from here. I wish I were owned by a loving infant.
At this height even birds disappear, replaced by man-made flying machines. I look through an aeroplane window, and a little girl looks back. She tries to grab me. We both start to cry.