Teetering on the edge were not the right words for it – but if they had been any other two people, that's what it would have been. For them, though, it was more like standing. Standing on a tall building at the point where the stone dropped sheer, hands barely touching, looking pointedly away from each other but always aware of their partner's every move – every twitch and breath.
To one side was the building. If they turned to it, they could walk away, any way they chose. Perhaps they would return to the edge and stand again, solid and firm, contemplating what the fall would be like, whether the bottom would be hard, whether it would yield. Would they land on their feet, hands intertwined? Or would they drift away in the plummet? Would they lose their nerve at the last moment, and, turning, grab a hold of the side to watch the other fall without them; the sound of a shattering heart echoing in the stillness? Would they ever land at all?
If she took the jump, he would follow… if he took the jump, would she? It didn't matter. They could not take the jump as two separate entities. It was a leap of faith that could only be taken as one.
and 100 reviews! You folks are absolutely nutters! and I adore you for it - thanks so much for reviewing!