"I'm doing it again, I'm going to have a panic attack, I don't— I can't do this right now. Calm down."
Ire took a deep breath.
"What do I taste?"
Ire's mouth was filled with a bitter metallic taste. She wanted to gag; she wanted to throw up, but she didn't.
"What do I smell?"
The scent of trash filled Ire's nose, followed by the smell of burning, like a lit cigarette. The smell of lavender hid beneath the two scents that surpassed it; it radiated from Ire's neck. It barely reached her senses, but it was by far the WORST. Worse than the trash, worse than the burning, worse than anything.
"What do I feel?"
The persistent and forceful wind caused Ire's hair to flow, black strands of short straight hair blocking her vision and dancing like leaves in the air, with her white button-up shirt following along. It brought a gentle feeling to her skin; it was cold and empty, but it was gentle. The occasional burst of wind caused her to briefly shut her eyes.
Nausea set in. She could feel her heartbeat as sweat poured down like a geyser. Her shirt was too tight; it was choking her from the collar and it constricted her chest. Her body was shaking. Her fingers, her legs, her eyes were all darting and shaking and moving in a crazed panic.
"What do I hear?"
The gush of wind was loud and overbearing, but it failed to cover the sound of traffic below Ire—the passing of cars and trucks, the occasional voice loud enough to reach her, the sound of heavy machinery. The sounds combined to create an uncoordinated symphony of life, a culmination of everything there was, there is, and all that there will be.
"What do I see?"
Ire looked around, or rather down. Below, she saw a jungle of buildings of varying sizes, but none as high as she was, each one radiating hundreds of neon lights that were nearly blinding and was painted in the darkness of the night. Streets filled the gaps between the buildings, cars passing by in bursts of light, and people adorning the sidewalk looking like grains of sand.
Her eyes turned to herself; she was still in her school uniform: a white ruffled button-up, a black pair of pants, a pair of runners covered in dirt at the base, and an apple-red tie.
Her feet were on the edge, barely an inch from plummeting off. She was hundreds of feet in the air, the view below her bringing a sense of dread.
"What do I think?"
Ire paused for a moment before speaking aloud.
"How did it go… oh yes. There was a little fox that lived on the edge of the desert. The fox refused to enter the forest. She said, 'I can't go in there, the big bad wolf will eat me up,' so the fox stayed away, searching for scraps that happened to lay outside it. The fox was suffering, but at least she survived. One day, an owl came to the fox. He asked, 'Ms. Fox, why don't you go to the forest to eat?' The fox repeated the usual, but was met with a response this time: 'Oh, haven't you heard? The wolf leaves his forest unguarded one day a year, but nobody knows when. If you go and take that chance, you'll live a happy life. If you stay here another week, you will surely die.' The fox scoffed at the owl: 'I'd rather starve, the fate the wolf would bring me would be far worse.' The owl looked at the fox with sadness. 'But don't you want the chance to live?' The owl left, leaving the fox with his parting words, and those parting words brought a dilemma. Option A: starve to death with certainty; it wasn't great, but it could be worse. Option B: take the small, inconceivable chance at a better life, but more likely die by the wolf, a death that was ten times worse than starving. What would you choose? Who was right? The Fox or The Owl."
Ire looked down once more. She was hesitating. Her body failed to follow her mind's instruction. Her commands repeated through her head: "Take a step, take a step, take a fucking step, Ire!"
But her willpower would eventually prosper. Her left foot raised off the ground. She moved her foot forward as it shook frantically. It hovered in the air above the endless drop, but just as she was going to tilt forward, a voice interjected.
"They're both wrong, aren't they?" It was soft and formal. It radiated a feeling of professionalism and class. Ire's foot immediately stopped and fell back onto the ground upon hearing it. Her heart felt like it was going to burst through her chest. After a moment, she turned to her right. Sitting on the edge of the building was a woman. She appeared older than Ire, as far as she could tell; her dignified outfit and the way she held herself were proof. She donned a white trench coat and white undershirt that quivered in the wind, along with a black knee-length skirt with black leggings. Upon her trench coat was a black badge with two dots and a line resembling a smiling face.
Her face was hard to see, but looking closer, Ire could make it out. She had long, white, straight hair that descended down to the floor from where she sat. Her skin was fair and stainless, as if untouched by the world, covering her narrow face and slender body. Black lipstick covered her lips, contrasting her white, stoic eyes. Her whole face was blank. She looked bored, detached from the situation.
The woman continued speaking, keeping the same expression. "The Fox is too stubborn. She refuses to even acknowledge the owl's words, but I can't say I blame her. The owl is a shepherd guiding a lamb to slaughter. A one in three-hundred-and-sixty-five chance? How outrageous. What would I do? Research. Choices made in the dark are blind, after all. Search for that day, search for a new way to survive, search for how to kill the wolf. They're both wrong because they both decide that the information they have now is all they'll need."
Ire muttered a response: "W-were you here?"
"The whole hour?" the woman responded. "Of course."
Ire looked back at the drop below before returning her gaze toward the woman. "Are you going to stop me?"
The woman suddenly stood up. "Are you the fox?"
Ire paused, taking a moment to think about her answer. The woman began to walk across the edge, foot to foot. She stopped right before Ire, the two standing eye to eye. She broke her silence and continued, "I doubt you're the owl."
Ire looked down at their feet, avoiding eye contact.
"I'm the fox," she confirmed. "I agree with the fox."
The woman reached forward toward her; Ire tensed in response to the sudden movement. The woman grabbed Ire's cheek and pinched it. "You're too cute for a fox; an owl suits you better."
Ire backed away, raising her hand to her cheek. She spoke, raising her voice: "I-I'm not the owl. I'm the fox! Wh-what does it even matter any—"
Before she could finish her sentence, the woman stepped forward, closing the distance once again. She grabbed Ire's hand, interlocking their fingers with hers. "Then jump."
Ire tried to pull her hand away, but the woman's grasp was stronger than hers. Instinctively, Ire looked at the woman's face; a gentle smile had reached it, but it was anything but comforting to Ire.
"Wh-what are you doing!" Ire shouted.
The woman's grip tightened as she spoke. "Five seconds, five seconds, then we'll jump together."
Ire felt her nausea worsen. "Let! Go!"
The woman wrapped her other hand over Ire's. "I thought you were a fox? Prove it to me… five, four."
Ire yelled, "Stop it!"
"Three."
Ire pulled and pulled.
"Two, one."
"I'm not a fox!" Ire cried. The woman's smile dropped as she let go; she dusted her hand before returning to her seat on the edge. Ire stood astonished, her breaths heavy and head twisting. She stared at the woman who had so suddenly changed behavior.
Ire spoke sluggishly: "Why… did you do that?"
The woman shrugged. "Enjoyment, but also to prove a point. You don't want to die, but you're scared of something—or maybe someone. Or am I wrong?"
Ire did not respond. The woman stood up once more, this time walking away from the edge. "Want to talk about it?"
"Talk?" Ire repeated.
The woman nodded. "You can always do this later, can't you?"
"I-I don't even know—" Ire stuttered. "Who even are you?"
"Julia," the woman answered. "Now why don't we go somewhere less depressing?"
Ire took a shaky step away from the ledge before turning to follow Julia. Each step was easier than the one that came before it, and before she knew it, she was already beside her. Julia extended her hand toward Ire. Ire stared at her hand before reluctantly taking it.
Julia's smile returned. "Let's have fun, little fox."