I stood on the edge; arms spread out. The foam pit below seemed safe. It’s a dizzying height. Acrophobia wasn’t what gripped my chest and lungs. My traitorous brain lengthened the jump’s height and shrunk the size of the pit. Would I survive? “Do a jump like in the video game?” friends said.
As my stiff muscles chained me down, the gymnast supervisor placed his hand on me and said, “Jump.”
I did, jumping forward with my arms spread out like the eagle and fell into the soft blocky sea. “Whoa,” escaping my mouth. The flush of comfort sighed with me.