If I had my way I’d just hover in a bubble to the park, floating and grinning at the people that couldn’t see me.

I could lounge on my side taking notes on swans or measuring the pointyness of the nose of a little girl who was laughing at the ducks.

I’d think about the bakery, which supplied the fresh loaves of French bread that the park-goers fed to the animals, wondering if they, not the loaves, knew…