Come Away From The Edge


“Tell me something beautiful,” she asks, her back to the world and the cliff at the edge of her feet. She balances on the edges between the rocks and the air, between life and death, between sanity and madness.

“Come back, please, Jem.”

But she only laughs, “It’s only a game.”

And she swings her arms, spins on her feet like the dancer she is. Inches from the edge.

“Jemma please!”

Her fire gold eyes meet mine and she grins, “I’ll come back. But first; tell me something beautiful.”

I swallow, hesitate.

“Come on, Luc! You’re the writer,” she squeals.

My mouth opens before I have time to think.

“You laugh in short bursts, like you’re trying to keep it in but you can’t figure out how to. Your keep your hair in a tight bun because you don’t like hair in your face. Your eyes get really big when we watch old movies, and you cried at the end of The Amazing Spiderman 2. When you’re happy you move your hands around one another. You love the night because you know that the stars are suns and that somewhere out there- ”

She interrupts me, “I said something beautiful, Luc.”

“Don’t you see?” I scream, “You are beautiful to me! Every tiny thing you do is beautiful. The way you blink and the way you move and the way you brush your hair out of your face. You’re beautiful, Jemma, and I don’t care if you don’t see it, because I do. And I love you. I’ve loved you since I met you. Since the first time I saw you smile.”

She’s looking at me with those fire gold eyes.

“Come back, Jemma. Come away from the edge. It’s not a game. You’re playing with the most important thing in my entire life; you. Come away from the edge.”

And she does.


 

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