Falls
She walks, as she always does, along the low wall designed to keep over-eager kids from trying to be Superman and tumbling to their rocky deaths a few hundred feet below. He walks, as he always does, looking up at her from the broken pavement and wondering when the fall will come. He says as much, as he always does, and looks up at her with the same smile he always wears when he asks the question.
"Freedom," she replies, and grins down at him the the mischievious grin that means she's not going to answer his question. "I like the breeze, and you miss half of it down there, blocked by this stone wall."
He can only shake his head. She persuaded him to come up with her once, but he could never muster the courage to come back up again. The wind was unpredictable, up here on these cliffs, and his balance too untrustworthy for walking along the few inches of stone at the top of the wall. And so he watched, as he always did, as she skipped ahead of him, somehow maintaining her purchase on the wall, as she always did, somehow laughing as the wind blew through her hair and nearly sent her tumbling out into space.
And she, for her own part, splits her gaze between the man to her left and the open air and sea to her right -- and looks longingly at both. He doesn't understand, as he never does, that the hard part is not in the physical act of balancing on the wall, but on the mental act of choosing not to fly.
She wonders, as she always does, when the fall will come.
"Freedom," she replies, and grins down at him the the mischievious grin that means she's not going to answer his question. "I like the breeze, and you miss half of it down there, blocked by this stone wall."
He can only shake his head. She persuaded him to come up with her once, but he could never muster the courage to come back up again. The wind was unpredictable, up here on these cliffs, and his balance too untrustworthy for walking along the few inches of stone at the top of the wall. And so he watched, as he always did, as she skipped ahead of him, somehow maintaining her purchase on the wall, as she always did, somehow laughing as the wind blew through her hair and nearly sent her tumbling out into space.
And she, for her own part, splits her gaze between the man to her left and the open air and sea to her right -- and looks longingly at both. He doesn't understand, as he never does, that the hard part is not in the physical act of balancing on the wall, but on the mental act of choosing not to fly.
She wonders, as she always does, when the fall will come.