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NaNoWriMo #7


The snow crunched under her boots as she crested the ridge. Up here was what she lived for: a sky clear as meltwater and air that rang like a bell.

She’d always aimed for the sky. When her friends climbed trees, she climbed higher. When others sunbathed, she scaled cliffs. Her workmates holidayed in Majorca, she went to the Alps.

And all her work, all her training, had led her here. The highest person for thousands of miles.

Above her, she saw the speck of an aeroplane, exhaust cutting a gash across the sky.

“Bastards,” she sighed, and climbed down.

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