Quoth
She cashed in her tickets – we no longer save them, having realized they expire before you have enough points for the big prizes – and skipped off to the prize counter. Literally, skipped. She skips a lot; the other day I went to drop off something at school, and we went to her locker; she skipped down the hall, hair waving from side to side. I’ll skip too, if no one’s watching. Not that I care, but it embarrasses her sometimes. Justifiably so. There’s a regrettably narrow window of opportunity for skipping, and it closes all too soon for too long – you have to be over 70 to get away with skipping again. Then people are impressed. Young at heart! How spry! Eventually skipping is replaced by the cool roll, the slouch-in-place – or maybe not. Some people always seem to be skipping, if only to themselves.