"Don't look down," he said. "Just look at me, walk to me."
It seemed impossibly far, though I could see him quite clearly with the lights of the rooftops pushing at the dark sky around us. But he was there and I was here, and there was a 40-story chasm between us.
"I promise you," he said, and it was as if he spoke in my ear, though from so far he sure would have to shout, wouldn't he? "It can be done. Just keep your eyes on me."
I drew in a deep, rattling breath, and my heart tried to crawl up my throat and out my mouth, so I gritted my teeth and forced it back down.
Then I stepped out.
And didn't fall.
I was so surprised, I started to look down and see what, exactly, I was standing on, but he shouted, "No!"and I jerked my head back up and refocused on him.
Another step. Another. And then he was there, in front of me, his hands clasped warmly on my arms before pulling me into a full hug.
I let my eyes dip, ever so briefly. Golden lights from the street, from the cars . . . I swayed.
"No," he said again and pulled me to safety.