Thirty-seven stories. That seems like plenty. I step forward, my toes hanging over the edge. I whisper an apology to my wife before I take that final jump, diving head first, squealing with joy as I rush toward the pavement.
I am at peace for the first time in my life. I have always felt I was different, alone, alien, that I didn’t belong on this Earth. I’m tired of pretending. I hope Lisa understands.
And then I realize the pavement isn’t getting closer; no, I’m headed toward the clouds.
I’m flying.
I can’t do anything right, not even suicide.
Author’s Note: I’m 98% convinced that I have the ability to fly. But what if the only way to activate this latent power is to place myself in mortal danger?
Haha (wince!)