- -
Come on, Ace. He's urged you forward, now it's time to move.
You barely look at the edge you're falling over. As a thought forms in your
mind, it's too slow, and it fades away. And you are falling, falling, holding
onto nothing but the thrill of just that.
You don't think of the boy whose love built a car; don't think of the one
whose notes remain in the margins of your books; don't think of the flirt who
never could get your name right.
You refuse to look at the boy beside you, refuse to scream just to test him;
just to see if he'd save you.
Before you can even think about thinking, the thrill of this plunge has taken
you hostage. Has overridden these talking, walking worries, and erased them for
this moment of flight.
- -
end