A perfect world is illuminated childhood.
"Come on," Pixie said, "the moon is out."
She dragged at Mel's hand, and flew open the screen-door that led out to her backyard. The light that spilled across the grass was only a sliver from the crescent moon, but it was enough to illuminate the yard in the way that only moonlight could.
The two teenagers trekked across the lawn, one reluctantly. He stared ahead at him at the girl who now started dancing in the cold air, spinning around her arms like they were wings or propellers or something long and spinning like that. He hugged his body, breathing out in a huff so that his breath was steam in the air. He watched as it hovered in front of him for a little while, before fading away into a transparent vapor.
Pixie was looking at him. "What?" he asked.
She led him to the swing set that her father had given her when she was two. It was one of those wooden ones with the yellow plastic slide and blue rubber swings. The chains were rusted from age, and the years had caused the seat to sink lower and lower to the ground. Or maybe it was just that Pixie had grown farther and farther away from the ground.
She jumped on the first swing, the one she had named "Bluebird", when she was five. It was the one closest to the side, close to the wood that could hurt her badly if she smashed into it. Mel just watched her.
"Come on Mel, get on "Cloud" and swing as high as you can. We'll have a contest!"
"This is what you call an interesting Friday night?" he pouted.
Pixie scowled at him, her long wavy brown hair falling...