It is September. At recess four primary students use giant sidewalk chalk. They rub it on the brick window ledge over and over in the same spot so chalk dust accumulates. When they have a small pile of dust, they stop.
A girl scoops up the dust in her hand.
A boy bows his head in front of her as she sprinkles the dust in his hair.
She wipes her hands together so the remaining powder falls. “There,” she says.
The boy lifts his head, a smile broadening across his face. “Ready?” he asks.
“Ready,” she replies.
He puts his arms out at either side like a plane and starts to run across the yard, lifting taller as he runs.
Later they tell me they were making pixie dust to help them fly.