Your choice changes what happens next
An inch of sky
Miri was inventing a game in which the red roundabout was a potato when the playground rose one inch. Jo blamed his sandwich. Paz leaned out of her wheelchair to look at the gate. There was daylight underneath it. Then there was enough daylight for a very tall birthday cake. The whole playground lifted above Pebble Street, carrying its yellow slide, its swings and one purple umbrella somebody had hung upside down.
Below them, Aunt Leena stopped pouring tea. Miri held up the little radio that matched the one on her aunt's picnic blanket. "We appear to be upstairs," she said. Leena asked everyone to stay on the broad middle path. The hedge thickened into a green wall around the edge, and the gate folded shut like a book. Under the grass, something white and enormous yawned.
Jo sat on the roundabout. "I think the potato is ready." A voice from beneath him said, "I am NOT a potato." Jo sprang up. The voice sounded like a bath draining in a very good mood. Miri stared at the roundabout. Nine years of visiting this park, and it had never once joined an argument. Now it cleared its throat and asked whether anyone knew where down had gone.