The Fall

I´m sitting on the brim of the balcony. I´ve been sitting here for at least a minute now. It´s starting to get dark and I should figure out my next move. I really should.

A girl on a bike is racing by, her face a grimace as she pedals uphill. The shawl she´s wearing is swaying in the wind. I don´t know, why she hasn´t pulled it tight around her neck. It´s like a flag on your car. It slows you down. And apparently, she has some trouble racing uphill, so she should really re-consider her style. As she drives past the big oak tree, she drives right out of my sight, but I can hear the swooshing of her bike as she continues to drive up the hill.

As the girl disappears, I get distracted by a movement to my left. It´s the guy living downstairs, taking out the trash cans. He always makes a hell of a noise when he´s at home. Even now. He´s just throwing out paper and cartons, but he´s making a mess – and noise. As he goes back inside, he takes his cell phone out of his back pocket and dials a number. I don´t hear who he´s calling or what he´s saying, because he goes back into the house before an actual cell phone conversation starts.

Right then, it´s quiet in my street. As the dark sets in and the air turns colder, I still sit on the brim of the balcony figuring out my next move.

I can smell the wet earth of the balcony flower box. Some plants that must have survived the winter are now blooming. I turn to look at the flower box, but suddenly, I feel the urge to get away from it, to maybe rip out every single blooming flower. I want to destroy the life that’s blooming in these flower boxes. I want to rip out every fresh, light green stalk, all blossoming flowers. I want to get rid of the green. I want to be surrounded by the fresh, wet earth only.

Strangely agitated by the weird notion, I have to look away from the flower boxes. My attention is caught by a car moving by slowly. It stops two houses away. The brake lights illuminate the area around the car. I watch as they die down. A man gets out of the car and straightens his shirt, pushes back his hair and checks his breathe. He goes up the path to the house and rings the doorbell. Seconds are ticking by, then the door opens and an elegantly dressed lady comes out of the house. They hug, and then kiss and he points to his car. As they walk down the path together, they lock hands. I have to look away again.

On this strange day, feelings of new life, of new love seem to drive me mad. I want to keep them from being together; I want to break them apart, just like I wanted to rip out the flowers before.

My grip tightens around the brim. I should let go. I should let go now. There are other places I could go. I should get away from here. But I know that it wouldn´t really make any difference. I inhale the late day´s cold air and close my eyes. Without reopening them, I let go of the brim, lean forward and fall down. On the way down, I spread my arms.

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