George wiped away the mound of snow and sat down on the swing.
Push me, honey, he said, push me as hard as you can and then get the hell out of here.
She did as she was told. She even gave him a second push for good measure. Then she bolted. Through the gate and straight past the approaching men, who didn’t even look at her. George kicked his legs out and leaned back into a full-bodied glide. He tucked in his legs as he swung backwards and the cold air threw his hair forward around his face. The chains were hard and icy in his hands and his knuckles were numb. He swung high. The chains slackened when he reached his peak, then jerked tight as he came back down. He could feel it in his wrists. He swung higher and higher as the men approached from all around. They hopped over the gate. One of them pulled a knife from behind his back and pointed it towards George. George swung on, gaining speed. He closed his eyes. They’re hungry, he said to himself, but let the fuckers wait.
