The Edge
The group behind him chants, “Jump!”
He turns to the crowd – his friends. His smile beams. He blows a kiss to his girlfriend, turns back and faces the night.
His eyes are wide like saucers. A deep breath relaxes him. Another. He raises, then lowers his brows to release the tension. Wriggles it from his fingers. Tosses his neck from side to side. A stretch. A crack. Relief.
“Jump!”
One step forward.
He peers out, sixty stories in the Vegas sky.
One more step.
A voice from his side. “Don’t look down.”
The floating hand offers a final check. The harness is tight around his torso. Clasp secure. Bungee taught. Safety check precise.
“When you’re ready, push yourself out off the edge. Don’t just fall. Got it?”
He raises one thumb. Nods his head. Shows he’s ready. He’s never been more ready. The decision made over time and while in line. He is ready.
One last step.
The edge is inches away. His eyes stare into vastness; buildings with flashing rooftop lights; bright neon; stars in the sky.
Deep breath. Serene. Calm. Peaceful.
He undoes his safety clasp and propels himself outward. Off. Down. The landing deck whizzes past. He smiles. The ground approaches. It’s done. Freedom.
