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55 K ate G ale The Orange Slide Mark and his son sift sand in the red and blue playground behind the orange slide. Mark’s son builds a mound with his toy shovel. Mark falls and his son laughs “Daddy”, into his white face. Mark sits up in the cold Febuary air. April last year, his son’s birthday, this park; those pizza kite days grow smaller, as if through the wrong end of a telescope. Mark is 27, his son almost three. They go down the orange slide fast, riding into the dirt. They hit bottom. The son laughs, but Mark doesn’t speak. He is stunned for a moment to remember where he is. ...

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