I live at the edge of the world. Many days I have spent sitting here, looking out at the stars. An entire galaxy laid out before me. Nebulae of brilliance drifting across the endless expanse of beauty.
There are others who come here, too. Some of them I’ve made friends with. We just sit quietly side by side as we stare out into the distance, fingers knotted in the grass as our feet dangle off the edge.
My family always told me I shouldn’t spend so much time here. They say that the colour will dazzle me, that the stars will pull me away. I don’t really think they’re right. I know I can’t walk across nothing, and I never did want to fall.
It’s easier to think here. A small room with nobody in it is far louder than all this space. My thoughts can roam freely out there, no walls to bounce them around until they’re shouts instead of whispers.
The air’s cleaner here, too. It smells fresh, new. Like a mountain stream. I can taste the starlight.
They want to put a fence here. They say it’s too dangerous, that people could fall. I don’t want them to put up a fence. It would just make this place a cage. Another cage. And I need to be free.