Short story called "Starting Over"
I stood against the ledge, and looked up at the sky. It was one of the palest blues I've ever seen. The wind brushed against my face, and I now knew what heaven was like. I wanted to spread my arms and fly down to the bottom. I wanted to run away, from everything. I simply wanted to run away. I heard a voice. That voice.
"Claire." I lifted my face toward the sky, imagining what it would be like, to simply fly away. I wanted to fly away from that voice, right then and there.
"Claire!" I heard it once again. "Claire, get away from the ledge." I turned around. "Didn't you hear me…
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