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Her
I saw her legs dangling precariously off the edge of the building. Fifty stories high, she gazed out into the horizon at the dazzling city below. Reflective glass window panes tinted blue from the skyline stretched on for miles. Stars glistened above. It was a quiet night, up here. The ruckus of the bustling city was too far beneath her to make out. It was peaceful, almost, seeing her there, a silhouette against the glittering night sky. I wondered why she was there, or why she came here every night, to sit on that ledge. I almost walked over. I had contemplated going and sitting there beside her many times but I stopped myself every time. I imagined what that would be like, to make polite conversation in the light of the moon. I would ask her name and she would smile slightly, staring off into space by way of evasion. She would offer me a swing of her cigarette. I would decline. “No, I don’t smoke.” She’d raise her eyebrows, smirk. I’d fall in love with her right there, as she flicked her cigarette over the edge. She’d tease me for my innocence but I’d just laugh as I watched her legs swing back and forth.
It was too tranquil of a night to disrupt her routine. I didn’t want to catch her off guard and cause her to lose her balance. So I stood there in the back by the door to the roof as the wind blew back her hair and a breath escaped her lips in a puff of smoke. I watched in admiration as she snubbed the cigarette out with the heel of her shoe that she lifted to the ledge. She was a wonder, she with her fearlessness and impeccable balance. With one leg dangling off the side of the skyscraper, she leaned forward.
I inhaled sharply. Her recklessness astounded me. But she only flicked her cigarette over the edge as she had in my daydreams, and I allowed myself to relax. She wasn’t my problem anyway.
Not until she glanced back and saw me, a shadow by the door. I saw her mouth form the O before I heard it, the startled scream. I almost laughed at her surprise. I was lost in those eyes, midnight blue to match the sky. I didn’t see her jolt until it was too late. I didn’t start to run before she was tilting back in astonishment, her perfect balance lost. I didn’t reach her spot at the edge until she had fallen. Where my feet planted, she had perched seconds before, hair swishing, cigarette in hand.
I stood alone on the roof. I wondered if she was an apparition for a moment, if she had been just a figment of my imagination all this time, until I shuddered and came to my senses. A feeling of dread flooded my body. She had been real. Now she was gone. And it was my fault.
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A short story about the mysterious girl on the ledge.