Cleo watched in awe as Peter Pan tumbled down from the sky, falling so fast that he was merely a blur of color. 

Falling. 

Tumbling. 

Towards her. 

Towards the ground. 

Caught up in the wire that had him tied to the sky so that he would stop right in front of her. Almost collapsing onto her but not quite.

The fallen version was so much more beautiful.