2 AM, on 3rd of January, 2023 read the Lock screen. A Marlboro in one hand, and his phone in another; Sane sat perched atop the terrace on his apartment on the top floor of the Freefall Heights. What is 2 AM to someone who sleeps during the day, but a minor inconvenience to his sight by the darkness of the night.
What is unusual is not the fact that Sane was awake at 2 AM, but that he was on the terrace. Funny, because Sane was afraid of heights. It makes no sense does it? Living on the top floor of the highest building in the vicinity, while unable to stand in the balcony for a fear of being pulled by an unknown force towards its penumbra, to its end. Unable to look down upon the beauty of the clear view, for a fear of giving in to the compulsive thoughts. Yet, today was special. Today Sane decided to get over his fear of heights.
it was unlike Sane to make a decision as big without much thought or planning, so Sane planned, and he was the best of planners, deciding on 3rd Janruary, 2023, Sane got ready in his best of attires. He took a bath, and brushed his long wet hair neatly, wore his favorite shoes, fed his cat and stayed for a while until she finished her food, turned the lights off and shut the door, for the final time.
The Wind was gentle, the cold wisps caressing his cheeks, extinguishing his matchsticks while he lit his marlboro. his neatly combed hair was now flowing across the wind like gentle waves of the sea, his silhouette glimmering by the midnight apogee. As to what thoughts ran behind Sane’s mind while he sat there perched atop, will never be known but to only him.
The time was up, with the last puff of his umpteenth cigarette, the ashes flew in the winds, as fleeting as sands within a sandglass, signaling the end to his wait, the moon had waned, and the first rays of the new sun had risen. Sane was afraid no more. the spectator had lasted the night, 120 feet above ground level, 120 feet away from his end. Sane dusted himself up, his phone a few feet away from him. What happened next is not so clear, but the fear was gone, the same fear that kept him away from the unknown forces was no more. The shields were withdrawn, the Trojans had entered the wall of Rome, and the intrusive thoughts had won; what lay ahead lasted only for 4 seconds.
And in this little moment, the speculator and the spectator were one. The imagination of the fall was much more surreal than any emotion he experienced in a long, long time; and for a brief moment, there was peace, a smile even. The fall from the 12th floor of his apartment lasted precisely for 4 seconds, but for him, it felt like an eternity. And for those 4 seconds, he had everything, in that moment, the experience was worth the dive.
Like a gambler gambling away his last few possessions for a final high, in a moment that could cost him his all, or win everything; He took a leap of faith ; Sane won everything, at the cost of everything. Falling at 32 feet per second from the 12th floor is not something one lives to tell the tale about, but if Sane was there, he’d tell you. He’d tell you in vivid detail of the wind rushing in his hair, the adrenaline pumping in his veins, the cause of the grin on his face, the feeling of being carefree of anything and everything (what does a dead man care for any materialistic goals, people, and things that happen in the universe after he’s gone?) or the feeling of finally being alive after so many years, even if only for 4 seconds.
No one really remembers clearly what happened the morning following the incident. But it was an open-shut case, a clean death. No witnesses, no Bleeding. The hemorrhage was internal, the bones, shattered. Funny how a material harder than steel turns to glass against the force of gravity. Funny, If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?
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