Sometimes, you get things right the first time. Others, the second. But the third time, they say, is the charm.

A thump thump thump noise that was so unfamiliar, and yet I couldn't quite place it. But I knew it. It was - "Mmm-hmmm," Monica murmured, just as Wes came view into the path. He was running, his pace quick and steady. He was in shorts, his shirt off, staring ahead as he passed. His back was tan and gleaming with sweat.

And I felt a sudden whirl in my head, knowing this leap was inevitable, that I wasn't just standing on the cliff, toes poking over, but already in mid-air.

"What was the name of Pygmalion's sister?" She blinked, twice, obviously surprised. "Ummm," she said, keeping her eyes on me. "I don't know." Rogerson did," I told her. "Rogerson knew everything."

Like a blinking cursor on an empty page, it was just the first thing. The beginning of the beginning. But at least it was done.

Sometimes. It was a good escape. Until, you know, it wasn‟t.

The best gifts come from the heart, not the store.