Thirteen stories high - one hundred plus feet above the cement sidewalks and paved streets.
Just a short, simple fall to the ground.
It almost makes you laugh.
You stand at the very edge, watching the people hurrying about below, all too preoccupied to look up and notice the small boy atop the 104 building.
Not that you mind. You don't want publicity. If someone notices you, it will no doubt start a commotion - dear god, he's there he's there about to jump he'sgoingtofall - and you'll be caught. Rescued from the rooftop to be safely delivered home to falsely concerned parents.
You can't let that happen. Not when you're so close. So very, very close. Just to think, one simple step, just one little inch in front of you. And it's all your choice; you have power now, and it's wonderful. No one is going to take that power away.
There were other choices: a gun perhaps maybe pills or a knife even - so many possibilities that just. won't. do.
Because really, arrogant people are attracted to lofty places, aren't they?
A smile draws up the corners of your mouth as you imagine it.
The fall - the drop, the weightlessness, the feeling of the wind rushing faster and faster and the knowledge that nothing, nobody - no one - can ever stop your descent.
Your eyes slip closed, you take your last - forever your last, you think gleefully - breath as you prepare to step out of the edge and -
"How'd a kid get all the way up here?"
The calm voice pulls you back away from the open air, eyes wide as you whip your head around for the source. Black and orange enters your vision.
The orange haired man sits to your left, legs dangling off the building ledge and looking completely uninterested by anything around him. And wings - thin, black, and sharp - protrude from his shoulder blades.
You find yourself nodding in confirmation as you stare at him before turning back to the monotonous hustle and bustle below. Without looking at the man, you speak. "Reaper."
It's not an accusation. Not even a question. It's a statement.
The man laughs. "So you see them, do ya?" He sounds amused and you imagine he's smirking. "Nice aren't they?"
You don't feel like answering, so you don't, simple as that. There is silence - not complete silence, though, as the sounds of the crowds and the cars and the city reach you from thirteen stories below - before the man speaks again.
"I assume you know all about our little game then, huh?"
You nod - just a slight jerk of your head that sends silver curls flying.
"A willing player, then. Don't get too many of those." He sounds amused.
There is no answer for several minutes before you turn to give the man a smirk.
"I'll be your boss one day," you say as you calmly step off the roof, completely charmed with the fact that you're falling...
.
.
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...f.a.l.l.i.n.g...
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...f a l l i - ...
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Not quite sure what I think about this one. It's a different style than I've used before. I've always imagined Josh's death was his own doing.
Thank you for reading.
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