You stand on a cliff’s edge. It is dark and grey and hazy. You don’t understand your surroundings, and therefore cannot see them. (It is not the other way around.) You look down to the bottom of the precipice, and you that see someone else is there, waving.

“Come down! Being up there is unrealistic! Have some humility!”

You might have thought that being on the cliff made you a little better than everyone. Such a belief may no longer seem so humble. You consider the jump. But, for now you’re unsure. You decide to look around first; an attempt to confirm that where you are truly isn’t where you should be. Through the haze behind you, you see yet another person.

This person is silent. They have a face that is all at once sublime, parental and judging. Perhaps their silence makes you nervous. This person does not speak, but instead points upward. And then you realize where you are. You are at the bottom of another cliff.

Daniel Triumph.

This, I think, is sort of in the vein of The Book of Sand by Jorge Borges, although unlike Borges, I am not one of the greatest short story writers of the twentieth century.

Also not sure why it turned out in second person. That wasn’t initially intended, but I decided to roll with it.