The Line

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as possible into the sandbox. I suddenly hated that white line, I hated that it was there to keep me in check and prevent me from jumping however I wanted. It was there to control me and I retaliated with a rebellious attitude towards it.

I wanted to ignore it and its supreme power in controlling the fate of anyone that ran on that path. But I couldn’t, it was there for a reason and I couldn’t deny that it was necessary. Some sensible part of me still obeyed that white line’s rule.

My turn to jump finally arrived and I slowly walked from the fences and onto the red path. I positioned myself and on the sound of the whistle, I took off and sprinted forward.

That white line was there; it stood out and remained as a focus of my vision throughout my sprint on the red path. In one split second, I over-calculated my steps and I almost stepped over the white line. I leapt forward and my hands naturally stretched upwards and I landed about two meters into the sandbox.

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