It was a new day, of a new month, of the new year. He awoke to the dim luminosity that wriggled in through the window’s shutters. As his eyes focused on the world before him, he observed the dust specks dancing in the daylight, almost beckoning him to perch himself up and out of bed. A peculiar pain dropped down on his chest and rippled out to the rest of his body, much like the wrinkling effect a stone has when being chucked into a river stream. Sleep was the only beneficiary to negate  this pain, so why must he wake up.

He starved for so long he lost the urge to eat, he had no friends, his family abandoned him. He was merely an old widowed man, seventy five years old, no job. His only son had passed away a year prior, during his last tour in the military, and his daughter in law moved away with his grandchildren to god knows where. She never liked him, and now that his son’s gone she can act as if she’s never known him.

He mustered the little energy that remained in his frail legs and arose from the bed, grappling the walking stick that he kept nearby, and shuffled out the doorway. It was all silent, not a creek, no good morning, no nothing. The only thing accompanying him were the little grime specks, slow dancing with the sunlight. That was all that remained. The lights have been cut off, there hasn’t been food in the fridge for weeks and he hasn’t eaten in four days. He wasted the little money he had saved up on food those four days prior, but yet, what did he carry on his life for? He was alone.

Today was the day, he would do something about it. He would make a change, for he lived in an apartment complex, and there was a plan that he had made. He slowly shuffled to the front door, his sandals clanking with every step. He twiddled with the locks until they were undone, stepped out into the hall, and ambled up the rickety steps. He kept going, kept climbing, allocating the last bit of will he had for this ultimate destination. He reached a door, and pushed it open with the very little strength assembled in his shaky, dilapidated arms.

He stepped out, onto the rooftop of the apartment complex, about six stories high. The wind pranced around him with a chilling touch, it snatched his walking stick from under him and he collapsed onto his knees. The pain he felt was subsiding, but his mind was racing, and his breaths were shallow and wearying. He crawled towards the ledge, and looked down onto the pavement. No one was about yet, just him, the sunlight, and the dancing specks of dust.

“It was a new day, of a new month, of a new year-”

He jumped





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