Tarantella
She balances on the edge. Every little step she takes sends a shiver up her spine - almost making her legs give way under her. The bridge is the highest in her area; when she looks down it's to a one-hundred metre fall, concrete walls on both sides and a double-sided road at the bottom, with cars crawling back and forth like dung beetles. I'm a butterfly, she tells herself - if I let go, I will most certainly fly. In some logical part of her mind, she knows it's not true. Hell, she's counting on it... but in the part of her brain that is king (or perhaps queen) of her life, she likes the butterfly image too much to let it go. Not because it's true, but because no one will miss a single butterfly. There are so many of them, aren't there? What does it matter if one goes missing, after all? Yes, she likes the butterfly image, not because it's true, but because it's pretty and it's hers and no one knows better than her that a butterfly might only live a season, but at least it's living fully. Without excuses. She continues walking her thin tightrope. Her spiderweb line. She stumbles; regains her footing. She almost falls and spreads out her arms, like wings. I want to fly, she thinks - even if it's the last thing I do. At the far back of her memory there's a recollection of a girl with brown eyes and smiling lips and hands that just won't let go. Let go of me, she yells, struggling. It's my life. My choice. You have no say in it. Let go of me! But the girl doesn't. Her lips continue smiling and her hands continue holding on and her eyes never ever stop loving. You said you loved me, she accuses. Now you've got to own up to it. I hate liars. If you tell me you love me, just to jump off a bridge, you're a liar and I hate liars. Don't become a liar. I'd never forgive you. One foot is pointing into nothingness, the other is desperately glued to rock and dirt and life. Soft eyes never leave her. Never stop loving her. She suddenly remembers... butterflies can't walk a spiderweb. They die. It's that simple.
She steps back.