Kayla had no idea why her little sister thought her goldfish
was in the roof gutters, but she pulled out the ladder to look anyways. Kayla
hated heights. She always felt like she was balanced precariously, about to
fall with the slightest gust of wind. She cautiously climbed up to the top and
risked a glance down.
“Hold it steady!” she called to her sister.
“What?” her sister replied.
Suddenly, Kayla’s foot slipped and she flew off the rung.
She was falling, but surprisingly slowly. Like everything around her had turned
into brown, sticky syrup. She braced for the landing. It never came.
