She stood on the precipice looking down.  It didn’t seem all that far really.  As she stared towards the street below her, wind whipping at her from all directions, at least it seemed like it anyway, she wondered what it was really like to fall.  Sure, everyone dreams about falling, but those are just dreams.  She’d been on every amusement park ride ever made and they like to advertise that the rides were just like freefall, but, still . . . were they really?

She doesn’t know how long she’d been standing there.  Was it cold?  She didn’t feel it.  The need to know drew on her, pulled her down, but she hesitated still.  It wasn’t fear.  There was no fear in her at all.  What was it, then?  Something just wasn’t right.  It wasn’t time yet.

Every day at least once a day, she would climb up to the roof, stand on the edge and stare down, not up towards the sky, but down. Never towards the sky.  It was too beautiful, too endless.  She suddenly realized that she stood out there more often at night than during the day.  Why was that?  You would think she would be looking up, being out there at night.  Look at the infinite blackness, but no, not her.  There were too many bright points of light up there and they were not for her.

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