61 lede

A Daring Pilot by Ian Moore

He stood positioned; arms laced behind, knotted at the wrists by a thick rope running an itch up the spine, feet distanced by the measure of his shoulders. It was a voluntary submission; senses careening forward, impacting at the smell of dust scuttered up by a footstep. Held tight by nothing, the world was immutable, absent, falling into the quagmire that one may call fate.
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