It was a cold, wet night. The narrow streets were slippery and muddy from days worth of drizzle. The old streets lamps let out dim wisps of light, barely enough with which to make out the faint lines from where the roads blended into sidewalks. It was a picture of dark, miserable grey, enough to dampen anybody's spirits.
Near the dirty sidewalk, an apartment building rose high up into the sky. It was still, tall, barely visible against the dark, starless night. And at the top of this sky scraping tenement, a lone figure stood. It was a boy, dressed in shabby clothing much too thin for nighttime's frigid weather. He was shivering slightly, hugging his arms to his body as the slight, numbing breeze blew his badly cut black hair in awkward directions.
The boy seemed confused, unable to decide how to feel, as at times he would stare vacantly into the distance, eyes blurry, an expression of vague pleasure smeared upon his face, and at other times he would stomp angrily on the hard cement, yelling at the top of lungs, the painful sound of his hoarse calls echoing into the darkness.
Finally, the boy seemed to come to a decision. He clasped his hands tightly together, whispering silent words to himself. Then, with fists clenched, eyes closed and head tilted up towards the sky, he jumped.