little shoed feet over the edge of the path and onto the
bare rocks of the canyon. In response, Problem Solver
hopped up and landed just a yard away.
The child, having followed her quarry this far,
was not about to lose it. “Good birdie, birdie, good
birdie,” she continued to coo, toddling out towards the
edge of the rim. As the child stepped tantalizingly close,
Problem-Solver heard the cries of the child’s parents and
sibling ringing out over the path.
“Christie! Where are you Christie?”
“Christie, come back to Mommy!”
“Christie! Get back here! You’re being bad!”
But it was too late. Problem-Solver fell over the
edge, plummeting into the canyon, Christie following
closely behind. Christie’s mother screamed as she watched
her child fall, realizing immediately the gravity of the
situation. Christie didn’t have a chance to utter a word as
she met her end 400 feet below in the canyon. Her giggles
quieted; she lay silent on the floor far below. Her mother
let out a cry of pain, falling to her feet and shimmying her
body over towards the edge to look down at her child. Her
husband grabbed her legs to hold her back, but he could
not hold back the torrent of words streaming from her
mouth: “Christie?! Christie?! Oh, why God?! Why?! Why
you fucking bastard?!”
Behind them, their older child stood off the other
side of the path in the brush, frozen as he watched his
parents crying out to God at the edge of the world,
tormented by his mistake. He didn’t dare get close to the
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