She kept herself at a distance from the edge of the cliff. Her feeling when she approached it was careful and simple: I fear falling, so I tremble. Yet she did not fear death. It was the fear of surviving a fall that scared her more. Here she was, early thirties – already? Yes. Thirty-one, that’s early thirties. That aura of inevitability had not yet completely faded but she never thought her lack of fear of death was very much attached to the cliché of inevitability.

The fall would be maybe forty feet?

“Anna, are you alright? Do you want your photograph taken?”

“That’s alright,” she replied, “I don’t feel like a photograph right now.” She made her way closer to the edge and tried to suppress the fear of falling – the feeling that took hold somewhere in her chest then fled out to her limbs like children running on a playground, in pursuit, during a game of tag. Did they play tag in Norway?

She was able to keep the children calm for a short while. Then her body was flooded with that instability. It felt like she could fall at any moment. Why was standing two feet away so much easier? There there was no shaking nor trembling – only calm – her thoughts free to wander. Now all she could think was falling. And hitting of water below. How deep was the water? She was confident – she knew – she would survive.

There was suddenly a great deal of playful laughter behind her. Children were running about. Where did these children come from? Where was their supervisor, Anna strew her sight about the small plateau. There were valleys in the distance and small dirt paths that quickly became indistinguishable from the greens that defined their edges. Anna saw only Thom. And he was with her. She supposed the children were here on some sort of field trip…how useful it would be to conquer a fear of falling at such a young age. Or reinforce one.

Anna tried to think of the first time she fell. She thought to the time she took her brother’s skateboard down the street. A small rock became lodged in between the board and one of the front wheels. She hadn’t been wearing a helmet – it hadn’t occurred to her as she was just going down a small slope in front of their house.

The skateboard disappeared beneath her feet and stopped dead on the pavement. Anna landed on her head. When she woke – which she assumed was not long after she had fallen as no one had been attending to her as she woke – she grasped her head. She shook her body as she stood, hoping to diffuse the pain.

But where did all these children come from? Anna noted how one boy – maybe five years of age – held the hand of a girl of similar age. How uncommon. Though she hadn’t seen children this age since she visited Halden and their daughter four years ago. She slowly turned back to the cliff and lowered the camera until is hung only from her neck.

“I think I could make it.”

Halden leapt out and held her back from the edge. One arm wrapped about her waistline and the other about her shoulders. The embrace with both restraining and comforting. Anna resisted in her mind at first but did not let the resistance manifest physically, as that would turn the balance of the restraincomfort towards restrain, she did not want that.

She began an unexpected cry. Anna didn’t cry – not since Halden stopped visiting.

Halden held her tighter, “Anna, don’t worry. Shall we go back home?”

She closed her eyes tightly and tried to think. She finally let her head roll forward and relax. She raised it back up, now composed. Only a soft redness on her bottom eyelid hinted at the tears. In a soft murmur she said “we’ll stay just a few minutes longer.”

Sure.