The midnight Seattle wind catches your blond curls and blow them out behind you as blue-green eyes are casting a bored and dark gaze across the city lights. Your hands are stuffed in the pockets of your vest.
Your feet perch on the edge of the roof twenty two floors above the back parking lot of Bushwell Towers and it is such a long way down. Almost five seconds to the pavement below. You lean over further to check if it is a clear drop and find it is unobstructed.
The iPhone in your pocket plays Bad Romance. You know it is her calling. Again. You argue with yourself a moment more if you should just answer it and be done with it all. You frown. The conversation will be the same and you really are not ready to continue it tonight.
So, you turn your eyes back to the Seattle skyline, take a deep breath, and step out into nothingness, counting in your head...one-one thousand...