Capturing a Moment
She was teetering on the edge of a cliff, sixty feet above the stony shore. The ocean winds were riding the sharp edge of the cliff, whipping her hair around until it looked like a blonde aura around her face.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said.
I thought of everything I could write about this.
‘Please, no,’ I said.
‘I’m—’ The wind came up and nearly pushed her off the edge. ‘I’m sorry.’
I saw her step back, and reached out. I’d been practising the move in my head. God, it was so poignant.
I’d make a fucking mint off my autobiography.