Cliff Stories

There's nothing quite like the fear of dying to sharpen the senses. I cling to shreds of inner resolve like my toes clamp precipitously over the rock edge facing the ocean. Staring down into the surf at a truly heart-stopping angle, the only thing preventing my fall is Madeleine’s grip bunched around my ponytail. A delicate English rose suspended by a strong French vine. I'm captured until she decides I'm ready. Until I d...