Flash Fiction · Uncategorized

Bird’s eye view

The view is intoxicating, as views high up tend to be.  I could look at it for hours.  But I don’t have hours; time waits for no man.  A modest pang of regret twists low in my gut; if only I had climbed the fire escape stairs earlier in my lease.  Cigarette butts litter the roof top, an over-turned plant pot the unseen smoker’s throne.

 

Church spires and old slate roofs vie for skyline space with apartment blocks and office buildings.  It is a scene I didn’t even know I was missing.  The morning traffic snakes sluggishly through the city’s veins as people play their part in the great delusion of purpose.

 

Birds fly overheard and I no longer have to envy their freedom.  The plant pot adds to its list of achievements and serves as a step.

 

I jump.

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