By Maya Irving
What caught Billy’s eye that morning was a dusty man sitting on the crest of a ledge, at the edge of the city.
He was rocking back and forth muttering, “I am sitting on the edge of a great idea. Possibly the greatest idea of my life.”
“How do you know?”
“Because it’s difficult to sit on, I can’t seem to find my balance.”
From that day on, Billy visited the dusty man every day on her way to school. She asked him if he had found his balance, or reached the end of his idea. Some mornings he rocked slowly. Some mornings he smiled widely. She noticed golden hairs dripping from his chin.
Billy told him about how the kids at school called her Billy Goat Gruff and rubbed dirt into her hair. She told him how her mother watched ‘River Security’.
The dusty man told Billy of the many ideas people had climbed on, on the surrounding ledges and cliffs. He said that many had rocked and fallen off.
The ladies of the city soon began to spy on Billy and the dusty man. She heard their voices flickering in her mother’s lounge room like flames upon a wick.
They loved to gossip, to roast and spit.
Billy wondered if the ladies had ever sat on an idea like the dusty man. She figured they probably hadn’t. Then one day the dusty man had vanished.
Billy climbed up onto his ledge and waited for something to happen.