You reach out to take the jump rope. The girl's pudgy fingers slowly unwrap themselves from it as she surrenders it to you.
"What am I supposed to do with this?"
"It's a jump rope." The girl says expectantly.
"I know what it is; why are you giving it to me?" Your eyes peer into hers, hoping for a spark of recognition.
"I dunno." And the little girl skips off into the night, her fluffy bunny slippers slapping the pavement gently as her shadow fades from your eyes.
For a moment you think you've imagined the whole scene. You decide that you definitely haven't. I might be turning thirty but I'm not going senile yet, you console yourself.
You look down at the rope in your hands. It's purple and thick; it almost reminds you of one that you had as a child...except yours had been orange. You smile as you remember the rope. It wasn't anything significant but you hadn't thought about that time in years, maybe ever.
You can hear everyone inside start to sing an off-tune rendition of Happy Birthday. Cake...means the party is almost over. You breath a sigh of relief.
Discarding the rope beside you on the front porch, you get up and make your way inside to join everyone. Hell, your grandmother only turns ninety once, right?