Sunset was the best time of day. The time when you can imagine the smog was just clouds drifting by. And on my swing I could fly above it all, like the birds of old.
A hand came down on my head. “Does your Papa know you’re here, piccolina?”
I looked up at my cousin. Unlike me he wasn’t wearing a respirator. But the smog didn’t seem to bother him. Instead he breathed normally.
Frowning, I ...