It should be like any other day around noon. No portents. No strange feeling when leaving the house. No indication that there was potential for a last anything.
It happens as simply and without fanfare as taking a breath. The foot goes here and then the choice is gone. The brain tries to make sense of it. The sun is too high, too central. It’s not right. And the sky is running away. Look how the buildings start to spin.
Everything does seem lighter, yes. The body’s weight feels like nothing at all and it is not a long trip. It doesn’t have to be. It hurts all the same.
There’s a change in the people who find themselves at the site of an incident. A few notice what’s happening. This is their story now. Isn’t that funny? The falling man, poor thing, reduced to an object. A device.
Who pretends to not see. Who doesn’t want to get involved. Who is in a hurry. Who would have stopped to do something if not for, if not for, if not for. The one who rushes over saying: Watch his head. Don’t move his neck. Who gets to say they tried to save a life and who gets stuck with the bill.