The Drift

…troubled as he was, he had a finicky way of choosing things. And that’s exactly what he did. He wanted a way of death, a peculiar way of death for himself. He had eliminated hanging, shooting and death by poison. He knew he did not invent anything but was proud of his selection. He was standing on the top of the tallest building in the city. He thought of cherishing the moments he would fall down. Wind smashing his watery eyes as gravity does the work free of cost, he relived his fall many times before. This-he decided was the last time.

He started all over again. He did the math- the height of the building was around 300 meters and assuming free fall it would take around 7 to 8 seconds to reach the bottom. That was sufficient. The first second was about noticing the bright side of the sun. The skyline did much to prevent those shining red rays to strike bottom. The reflection of those rays on the beautiful glass buildings scattering into many pieces and blinding the darkness looked pretty. Then was the transition just a second later when the rays would give way to the cold eclipsed image on those glasses. He noticed his fall in the form of image and smiled. He was happy that he chose the right buildings. Mirror glasses he just loved at that moment. He knew time was the key. So he looked down to face the storm on his face which made his eyes watery in a fraction of a second and he felt the tear roll back to his hair. The chill made him shiver for what would be the last time. He noticed innocence on the streets growing bigger as he hurriedly floored down. Men and their inventions he liked. It got chiller and he felt that. He proudly found a way to cure his acrophobic nature. He glanced at the colors of life in those mirrored glass buildings, the cemented pathway, yellow taxis, the people in ties, the skater- bois and the subway signs. He knew it was time. He closed his eyes, wore the common smile and waited for the thud.