Charles ate a slice of Wonderbread, then climbed up on the railing of the apartment balcony. He looked down twelve stories to the ground, the people not quite ants, but nearly so. He shook himself, readying, then realized he had forgotten something.
Jumping down, Charles ran inside and grabbed a towel. Recently washed, as he had asked him Mom to do, it smelled of lemon and warmth. He tied the towel around his neck, grabbed another slice of bread just to be sure, then returned to the balcony. He climbed up on the railing again, raised a fist, and lowered his knees in preparation.
Just once around the building, Charles thought to himself. A test flight. I need to make sure I can do this, then find out how much juice a slice of bread gives. Gotta be careful about this. Test my limits.
Charles straightened, letting his towel flow out behind him heroically. He squatted again, then took off.
After a quick trip around the building, during which Mr. Foster smiled and waved, and old lady Dempsy keeled over with a heart attack, Charles returned to his balcony, excited but exhausted. He undid the towel, then jogged to the phone to call an ambulance for Mrs. Dempsy.