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logogen 14:32:17::21:07:2004 --

She stands on the edge of the world; feet balanced on the railings, swaying gently in the breeze. We're up high, on an outcrop of concrete and metal, where the air begins to thin. The building carries on above us, wreathed in neon, shining chrome, the works. Below, it falls to the distant street direct, without a single thing to stop her fall were she to step forward.

She's getting a few odd looks from the people passing by between us, the shoppers, the movers and shakers, the unlinked, useless throng of the world. She ignores them, as do I; we're the only things of importance here. I'm looking at her back with lidded eyes, watching the way the wind tugs her thin jacket around her torso. They're wondering what she's about to do. Secretly, so am I.

"It's all going to fall apart soon anyway, you know that," she says, without looking back. The breeze has caught her hair, drawing the short strands away from the side of her face. If I move my head, I can nearly make out her profile.

"I know," I reply, sure she can hear me even over the press of humanity between us, the tramp of footsteps, the conversations, the usual.

"Everything. You, me, the whole world. It's going back to the way it should be."

"I know," I say again. Our conversations often go this way. Her speaking, me agreeing. Some of the time, it's because she's told me everything already. Other times, I'm just playing my part. The wind gusts again, and she wobbles on her perch, though without apparent concern. I sit back down against the wall. Even though I know she wouldn't go over the edge without meaning to, I still feel a mild sense of worry.

"Today's the day," she continues. That, now, is different. This is no longer rote.

"What day?" I feign ignorance. She shrugs, and ignores me, staring out at the distant sunset between a pair of soaring towers. I know full well what she meant. I stand, make ready to drive myself through the crowd. A few heads turn towards me, mute accusation in their faces. They step around me. She raises her arms.

"You know," she says, as she slowly drifts forward. I can see the side of her face, still, as I push through the thronging crowd, ignoring their cries. She's smiling. I reach out my hand, desperately.

My fingertips brush cloth.

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