The building rushed by me as I fell headlong, light glinting off the glass windows. I had but a single chance. I could see the awning below me and I tried to angle my body in the slipstream to make sure I would hit it.

I saw the green and white stripes growing before me as I tucked myself into a ball and braced for the impact. I felt a stunning blow against my back and had an instant to hear, with horror, the sound of canvas failing under a sudden load and tearing and splitting with a sound like a gunshot or breaking bones—

[hr]

The building rushed by as I tumbled, my balance never to be recovered. I had only two chances; the first one was coming up fast, a flagpole that would be just within my reach. I had to hope that I would not build up too much momentum before I could reach it, it would do me no good if it were ripped from my grasp.

I saw the sun gleaming along the length of the weathered aluminum as the wind whistled past my ears. I strove to time it right, reached for the pole, felt the hot metal against my palms as my fingers closed around it, and the sharp tug as it took my weight for one heart-saving instant.

But of course the pole was not meant to take a human’s weight, only that of a flag. The pole snapped free from its mounting and I plummeted again—

[hr]

I teetered at the building’s edge, swiftly losing my balance. I had only three chances, or so was my intuition; my senses always got unusually keen in times of danger. I sought for a handhold. I could see an ancient metal vent, its rusty sharp edges looked quite uninviting. The brick rim at the edge looked more stable, but the mortar looked cracked and not quite stable enough. 

I looked up and saw a cable passing overhead, the power lead for the nearby neon sign. I seized it even as I overbalanced, and as I put more weight on it, the rusted clips that held it to the sign frame tore free and the cable suddenly snapped. Sparks flew into my face and I let go in a panic, starting to fall—

[hr]

She held the gun in a steady grip, her eyes cool as a snake’s. It should be easy to talk my way out of this, I thought, I could feel I had four chances, and my intuition has never been wrong about that before.

But something was up this time. I might have had four chances, but they weren’t adding up to much in my estimation.

“Anything you want to say, before I make you walk?” she snarled, the wind tugging at her blazer.

I considered all the cocky lines that had sprung to my mind, the urge to try to slap the gun from her hand, leaping behind that shed there while bullets sang around me, or trusting to my baby blue eyes and her tender instincts…

As she stared at me, I felt my four chances suddenly contract to one. It was the damndest thing I’d felt in my life, and it led me to a choice I’d never wanted to make. But here it was, and I had to trust my hunches.

I let go of my pride. “I’m sorry. You were right; I was wrong. Please forgive me.”