I don't remember exactly how I came to find myself here, of all places. Here, approximately forty stories of steel and glass above the sleeping city streets. Here, the only place left where I can still breathe. Lazily, as if only just having awoken from a deep slumber, I peer over the railing, considering the fall.
Tonight is not the first night I've contemplated a swan dive into the sea of parked cars and shady-looking pedestrians. Maybe I'm the only one who sees the humor, yes, humor, in the fact that at least two people are right this very second praying that I'll scale this fence, this morbid diving board, and plunge into the darkness below.
Unfortunately for them, they are to be disappointed once again. I mean, what would the papers say? Not that I've been getting the most positive press lately, but I don't want those dogs to have the last word. The next time my picture's on the front page, I swear, swear, that I'll give those fools exactly what they've asked for. They'll see what kind of justice is to be had for the city that turns a victim into the villain.
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