Here’s a draft for a short story or opening monologue titled Title: Learning to Fly (One Disaster at a Time)

I take a breath. My cape (a repurposed blackout curtain) flaps in the wind. My utility belt (a fanny pack with granola bars and band-aids) feels pathetically lightweight.

My name is Leo, and I’ve been a superhero for exactly six days. My superpower? Uncontrollable gravity defiance. Which sounds awesome until you realize it works only when I sneeze.

I spit out a strawberry-scented glob. “Alright,” I groan, giving the cat a thumbs up. “That counts as a rescue.”

I’m standing on the edge of a downtown parking garage, staring at a four-story gap. On the other side is a fire escape where, according to a slightly unreliable raccoon who seems to be my only informant, a cat is stuck. Not a civilian. Not a priceless artifact. A cat.

The cat saunters over, looks down at me, and meows. It sounds suspiciously like laughter.

They don’t tell you about the nausea.

Being a rookie superhero isn’t about glory. It’s about getting back up, wiping the yogurt off your chin, and realizing that the only thing braver than a perfect landing is a spectacular failure… followed by a second jump.