Precipice

A man's decision to let go, or to stay strong.

He stood at the edge, almost immediately regretting it as his head turned downwards. The city looked almost peaceful up here, on the edge of one of the tallest buildings in the city. Sure, it was filled with honking horns, screaming babies, television sets with stereo systems far too loud that carried the sound just to within his range of hearing, just so that he could barely hear the deactivation code to the nuclear launch being shouted out.

 

He felt the grip of fear trying to pull him away from the ledge of the building, trying to pull him and his tacky gray suit, one which he had bought for $49.98 because he knew the manager at a men's clothing store and was able to get a discount, away from the ledge and back onto the solid ground of the roof. As the fear tried to pull him back, a different sort of fear kept him in his place, readying him for the plummet. The fear of loneliness.

 

He looked at the bright neon lights flash on as the sun began to set over the city, feeling a calm sense of relief. He wasn't sure exactly whether he would go through with it or not, but he felt like he was close to his final decision. He thought about his short, meager life and wondered what it all had been for.

 

He saw his first kiss with a girl, it was under an umbrella while it was raining. His hand's had been greasy from that hamburger so he hadn't touched her for fear of grossing out, but they had gone out several other times after that. She had been very nice to him. He remembered the drunken dare in college where he had kissed another man, and he actually had kind of liked it. There had been more kissing with that guy afterwards, but it had never led anywhere serious. He remembered scoring in the top 15% of his class of 300 students for the final grades, how proud his parents had been of him. The Prius they had bought him, it was lime green, his favorite color. He remembered the first fight he had gotten in, it was with his landlord and they both had ended up in the hospital over it. He had had a bit too much to drink that night, and they both apologized to each other the next week and became best friends. He remembered his first sale in the office, how one of the receptionist had congratulated him on a job well done and how they had made out in the copy room later that night. He remembered his first serious girlfriend, how he had proposed to her and how she had torn his heart out by refusing to marry him.

 

He thought on those things, and how his life had just seemed to fall apart in the last year. Divorced, fired from his executive position at a promininent sales company because he had slacked off during his depressive state while the divorce was being finalized. His addiction to alochol and how he had ended up in jail and in the hospital on several occasions. Watching a bullet pierce his father during a mugging on the way home from a nearby pub to his apartment. 

 

He wondered if it would matter to anybody if he just slipped and fell from this ledge, if it would truly matter to anyone at all, and for how long. How long would people come to visit his grave? Would anyone blame themselves for his death? His mother perhaps, maybe his best friend/ex-landlord; but who else? He remembered his uncle trying to console him at the funeral, telling him that it wasn't his fault that his father had been shot. He remembered cursing his uncle out in the middle of the proccession and storming out. How he wished he could reconcile it, but there was no going back. No point to it all.

 

And then, he remembered the most important thing of all in his life, the reason he had wanted to jump off this building and end it all. His unborn son. His ex-fiancee had told him over the phone, he had only listened. She wanted him to have a father, for him to have a strong influence in his life. He had told her that he was s**t, not worth the little guy's time. He lifted a foot over the ledge, to catch a breeze going up his gray suit's leg. It would be so easy just to let go, just to give it all up. But then, whoever said life had to be easy?