We’re playing frisbee on the side of a snow-covered mountain. I look down, and realize I’m on a knife edge ridge. Frisbee doesn’t seem like such a good idea now.
The others are gone and I experience the sensation of falling; my feet give out as the snow falls away below, the feeling of an avalanche starting. I shove my arms in the snow and bolt myself to the mountain, hanging on. It stops, I hold.