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One more foothold and he'd have it.

There it was, thank God, the little notch in the ledge he was just able to grip, enough to move forward. But was it enough to move up?

He was clinging to the side of a 30 story building, a mid-century rectangle with stacked stone walls. He'd climbed out the window because someone on the 27th floor was shooting everyone in sight. The man against the wall had been in his office - far from elevators or stairs - when the shooting began.

Now he was nearing the flat roof of the high rise. He had only to reach up and hoist his body over and he'd be on the roof. He gripped the ledge, and touched something smooth, protruding just over the edge. Looking up, he saw it was the toe of a boot.

The man hesitated. He had not heard any shots for some time, he realized. What kind of shoes did Jake wear? Jake, the surly intern he'd fired last month. The man touched the leather tip. Toes wiggled in the boot. Below him was 26 stories, then concrete. Above him were those boots. The lady or the tiger? he thought.

He lifted himself up.

Story by:

Barbara Stanley

submitted at 8:09pm

26 November 2011