Matterson looked below. It was deep, a hundred feet, at least.
The breeze of that sea ruffled the thick and frizzy hair on his head. On top of it, that sea was making it even frizzier.
He sat, then got to his feet again. What was he doing there?
He didn't even remember where he came from. Those rocks supported him, though they looked as if on the verge of crumbling, dragging him down into the abyss beneath
him.
Who knows why did he turn up there. Perhaps he had been sent, perhaps he had run away, or maybe he was just born there and he didn't remember. What did he remember? Nothing.
He knew his last name: Matterson. What a ridiculous last name, why did he even own one? He decided to get rid of it, throw it away, like a foul thing.
From now on, his last name would not be Matterson, nor anything else.
Just…
He kept watching the waves' foam breaking against the sharp rocks below.
Max. It seemed something related to advertising. It also meant "maximum", but he couldn't figure out its context, at that moment.
He stepped toward the edge of the precipice. Perhaps it wasn't too frightening.
The brittle rock fell into the endless chasm. He took a breath and held it. He fell without making noise.