Sarah lived an altogether dull life, working as a secretary.  She greatly enjoyed er long walks home, no matter the weather, not even on a chilly, early winter day sch as this.  The sidewalk was spotted wit cold little puddles, as it was not quite cold enough for snow and ice just yet.

Part of Sarah wanted to jump in the puddles; the small, happy, childish part that had no business working as a secretary.  It was cold, anway, and she neither wanted to be colder nor mess up her shoes.  Besides, Sarah's mother had always warned her against jumping in puddles.  Particulary puddles on concrete.  Particularly now that she was living alone.

Even so, every step drew Sarah nearer and nearer to a particularly large puddle, very splash-worthy and the newly stirred child in Sarah raged and squealed and bounced witht eh want, no the //need to jump in that puddle!//

Sarah glanced around.  No one on the street.  No sound but the winter wind and the crunch of her sneakers on the pavement, unless she chose to count the voice of her monther head, reminding her of how foolish it was to jump in puddles.  Which she didn't.

Her pace quickened.  There was the puddle.  Just one little splash couldn't hurt.  The child-Sarah shrieked with delight.

Sarah's feet left the fround and, for one dainty moment, Sarah was airborne.

//Splash!//

Her feet crashed into the puddle, but at the critical moment of ultimate splashing, she slipped.  Sarah flailed but, before she could so much as feel dismayed, she fell back, her bead smacking against the hard pavement with a hard //fwak!//  as the world went dark.

So //that// was why her mother told her not to jump in puddles.