Tightrope
written by: W. Glewicz
My left foot hangs in midair. I bring it down. It finds home.
I shift my weight and bring my right foot forward.
I totter, slightly. I remind myself of the only rule: Keep your eyes forward.
Left foot. It’s a bit easier now. Right foot. Left. Right again.
Five steps done. A rhythm grabs hold.
Ten.
I shut down every other thought, every other impulse. At this moment, there is only me, and only the rope.
A wind sweeps past and pushes against me. My arms swing wild, but my gaze holds steady. I regain my footing. I do not look down.
Twenty steps.
Then thirty.
Just a few more.
Ever forward. On my way to you.
W. Glewicz is a composer and author who lives in Washington State in the shadow of Mt. Rainier. His work has previously appeared on the Flash Fiction site 101words.
