Jump

Jump, girl. Jump!  (he shouts from below)
But there is no net! No parachute!
May I catch you? (he asks, eyebrows engaged)
Will you?

No response

She glances at her current surroundings.
Familiar. Comfortable. Fine.

Jump, girl, jump!

Her eyes wander over the tips of her toes and into the abyss below.
Can't see too much.
He stands down there looking up.
The brightness surrounding him more blurry in this fog

She fingers the scar below her collar bone. A reminder of her last jump... and she recalls the bright colors, fresh scents, sweetest tastes...
Memory tells her the roses were exquisite.
But the thorns -- thorns.

Her hand lingers over the scar.
A deep breath.
It is fine here. Comfortable. Safe.
She backs away from the edge.

She hears his footsteps retreat.