A quintet of scared birds makes a mad dash for the ragged cliff’s edge. They take to the sky, a flurry of frantic appendages. I, the usurper having stolen their dusky roost, crouch there gasping for air. The muscles in my legs are burning. I can almost hear that snap-snapping sound like electrical circuitry leaping to life. It’s a wry twist, this revelation of my own bone and sinew’s penchant for the melodramatic.

The world goes blurry.

I’d arrived, chasing full tilt after something unnamable. It wasn’t the blue vanishing into the melting horizon. It wasn’t the frightened flock wheeling out of my field of vision.

The air up here is razor sharp, icy, and hurts going down into my straining lungs. My blood roars in my ears. I hear a steady sound like the beat of a drum. Throbbing cells subside into quiescence. Euphoria snakes out, lapping up the agony of exertion. A wonderful feeling bubbles up and spills from my mouth.

I toe the jagged line to peer down the seaward side of the cliff. Way below and far away, great waves moan and twist as they roll up from the deep belly of the sea. They break and scatter. They spill their frothy treasures onto the spiky teeth of the shore.

Down there, what happens must be something like ecstasy manifested in its purest form. If I summon the gumption to take a flying leap, that salty body will welcome me into her embrace with wide, watery arms.