He meant to take a powder, another run at it, despite “it” not looking so good. Snow blinded, clutching one pole (the other one missing, as well as one glove, one boot, one ski), he clung to the precipice, swaying on one leg. In the distance Sally (lovely Sally!) leaped and flapped, her whole body a semaphore—was she trying to tell him something or just making fun of him? Then Quizno flashed by, tall and dashing, followed by Sam, Rick, and Schlomo, handsome all, laying down a single trail of powder like a bright zigzaggy arrow angling toward oblivion.
First published in 100 Word Story.