100 words// TW: suicide
I have been falling for five seconds.
Perhaps only ten more to go.
Ravenous wind claws at my hair and maces my dry eyes. My wingless corpse’s reflection paints each office window, staining the worker’s minds with nothing more than an insignificant blur.
I lose my right sandal and wish it a safe landing.
These eyes remain fixated on incoming trees, runners, officers, parking meters, road markings, rubbish bins, pigeons and fallen Autumn leaves. Tranquil normality is unprepared to transition into chaos, like a cluster of agonies spiralling towards the gates of Heaven.
There are children down here.