recess

by David Henson

One morning we spring from bed, throw on some clothes, rush outside and begin playing tag, hopscotch, marbles…. We laugh and claim we’re rusty when our children win.

As the sun reaches halfway to noon, a bald fellow skateboarding shouts Shouldn’t we be at work? Everyone freezes, looks around—then bursts out laughing. A man & woman sitting in a maple resume k-i-s-s-i-n-g.

A couple hours later, we realize we’re famished and gorge ourselves on baloney sandwiches washed down with chocolate milk. Bellies full, some of us nap while others read comic books.

Board games entertain us until evening when, out of habit, we switch on the TV to watch the weather. Upon seeing the test pattern, we pretend it’s code and try to guess the secret message.

Struggling to stay awake for the late show, we rest our eyes. The next thing we know birds are singing.

We shuffle through our morning routines. Driving to work, we wonder at the kites tangled in the trees.

BIO: David Henson and his wife have lived in Brussels and Hong Kong and now reside in Illinois. His work has been selected for Best Microfictions 2025 and nominated for four Pushcart Prizes. His writings have appeared in various journals including Literally Stories, Ghost Parachute, Bright Flash Literary Journal, Moonpark Review, and Maudlin House. His website is http://writings217.wordpress.com. His X handle is @annalou8.