He's sitting in his office wondering what was next. Or was this the end all. Was this all that he was going to be. He stares out his office window and down at the city streets, wondering. Knowing.
Knowing he was done. Knowing he was finished. Knowing he'd had enough.
He grabs his jacket and his briefcase and walks through his door and out into the sea of cubicles. He searches for the one that was his. The one where he started in at the firm and finds it. Remembering all the late nights, the overtime, this missed birthdays. The regrets.
He hated it but he worked hard, moving up position after position until, finally, he got his own office and was now a leader.
As he looks across the mass of people going about their business, he wonders how they did it anymore. He wonders why the killed themselves day in and day out. And for what? In the hope that someday they will have an office of their own? To someday have money in the bank, some investments? To someday be like him? To finally be able to retire when their seventy? The very thought made him ill. Well, not him. He's not waiting until he's seventy. Not anymore.
He stands straight, turns and walks to the elevator, pushing the button impatiently over and over again, waiting for the doors to open so he could get out. He had to get out.
DING! Finally! the doors open only to reveal and full car. So, he politely waits as the people step out going left or right as they did. The last person is barely out as he jumps in, pushing the button to close the doors apologizing to the few that didn't make it, explaining that he had an emergency. He pushes the button for the roof.
He loosens his tie as the elevator reaches its highest destination. It opens to a small foyer, and he gazes at the door leading out. He hesitates, but not long. The wind catches the door as he opens it, almost ripping it out of his hands.
Tilting his head back and looking up at the sky, he lets his briefcase fall beside him on one side and his jacket on the other. He looks around and notices no one else is on the roof with him. No one is around to watch him walk to the edge of the roof. No one to stop him.
Slowly he walks to the four-foot-high brick wall that surrounds the roof like a railing. Resting his hands on top of it, he leans over and see the height, knowing what he is going to do.
Not wanting to lose his balance he finds what he needs and drags the chair over to the wall. Slowly, he takes the first step on the chair, and then the second step on the wall. Balancing. Not wanting to fall. Not yet. Only when he's ready. Only on his own terms.
As he looks out over the city, the wind blowing his hair, leaning his head back letting the sun warm his face, he spreads his arms out like wings. He can already feel the stress leaving his body, leaving his mind, lifting his spirit. He leans forward.
Ever so slightly. Just a little bit. Closing his eyes. His heals lift from the railing. A little more. A little more. Just.....a....little.....further.
He feels the wind as it rushes past his face. Faster and faster, it feels like his clothes are going to be ripped off his body, and even though the windows seem to be passing by him in a blur he catches his reflection. And he smiles. He feels no fear as the ground rushes up to him. He feels no fear as.....
He jumps up out of his dream and feels the sea breeze blowing against his face. Looking around trying to figure out where he is, his heart beating against his chest, he slowly starts to remember. The sand is white, the ocean is blue, and the sky is filled with white puffy clouds. The sound of the waves hitting the beach and the seagulls squawking as they fly over remind him.
He remembers. He remembers he was done. Finished. He had had enough. And he did what he knew he had to do.
He took that leap.
