Slack Line

“It’s supposed to be a slack line, Dave,” Annie whined.

“It is a slack line!” Dave said, gesturing toward the flat rope suspended between two trees. The trees, young, hardly more than saplings, bowed a little under the tension he had put on the line; if someone wanted, they could use it as a bass note.

“It’s not slack! I can’t tightrope walk! I can only do this if I have the slack to sway a bit.”

“Why would you sway? The wind will blow you off. Trust me, this is the way to do it.”

“No, it’s right there in the name. Slack. Line. Slack. Make it slack!” Annie put her hands on her hips.

Dave sighed, and walked over to the tree. He gradually released the tension, until the trees were no longer bending and there was just a bit of looseness in the line. “Happy?” he said.

“Yes, I am. Thank you,” Annie replied. She put a hand on one tree and hoisted herself. They two trees bowed in again, making the line lower, but Annie smiled as she started to cross.

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