Written by Emily
The sun was shining, but the wind was fierce. Winter hadn’t loosened its grip. She had her hat pulled over her ears, and her little hands tucked into her sleeves.
She stood with her knees together, looking down.
Below her was a still-frozen river of white ice.
After a few heavy inhales and exhales, she scurried to the pavement side of the walking bridge, where her legs and breath were calm.
Within seconds, she was on the grate again, looking down and whispering to herself, “I don’t like it. I don’t like it. I don’t like it.” Back to the pavement.
This back and forth and back and forth continued a few more times, before I asked, “Chlo, what are you doing?”
“I’m afraid of this,” she answered. “And I don’t want to be.”
And then she stepped back onto the grate.
I want to live like that.