Wow. A recommendation from Dorothy is an endorsement worth noting; and good incentive for checking out Roberta's stories (I confess I found the PDF format a bit offputting for some reason, but I can get over that...). That's the kind of push any author here would love. Not like...

Back in the 1970's I had a job as a grain sampler for the California Department of Agriculture; more often than not working in a grain elevator at the Port of Long Beach that was 8 or 10 stories high. It was a wonderful job. Those were looser, less responsible times and I pretty much just drank beer all day with the steveadors and longshoremen and the occasional foreign shiphand. The floors were a long distance apart, and each had these roll-up garage doors that opened in the building's sides to let out the grain dust that filled the air when the conveyors were running, with only a single waist-high bar across them to keep someone from stepping out into the air like Wile E. Coyote and going SPLAT!

So one day on one of my breaks I was sitting in one of these big doorways with my legs dangling over the edge writing a story on my clipboard (no laptops back then); the cars down in the parking lot 100 feet below looking like toys; when this longshoreman who worked there came up to warn me: "You shouldn't sit there!"

I told him, "Don't worry, I'm good with heights. I won't fall. And if I sit anywhere else the dust gunks up my pen."

But his concern was that somebody might come up and push me off to my death.

"That's nuts!” I laughed, “Why would anyone do that? They'd lose their good union job at the very least."

He said that you never know what's going through someone's head, and they might give in to "a sudden impulse", born of some dark murderous psycho problem.

I though it had to be the most ridiculous thing I had ever heard, and a bizarre thing to worry about, so I continued sitting there every break and lunch time for the three years I worked there.

And then one night, a decade and several jobs later (I was even living in a different city by then) the weirdest thing happened. I bolted awake from a dead sleep at 3 am; with my heart racing from the sudden realization:

Holy Shit! It was HIM!!! The reason my friend was worried about such a strange thing was because he was the one who had a compulsion to do that, and for all I know had voices in his head telling him: "K|LL! K|LL! K|LL!!"
.

Or maybe not, maybe it was just something he had heard about someone doing. But I don't sit on ledges like that any more without good reason and the absolute certainty that there aren't any crazy people around; because that's the kind of push an author doesn't want!
~hugs, Veronica