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Adam Eivy

The balcony is too high. But I can jump it. I can get to the other side. If only the rain would abstain from taking my feet from the ground as they glide out and up from my landing zone. I know this is what will happen, wet metal, pooling up, no choice. Go now.

That’s the fall, long, steady, hard. My shoes hit the metal edge of the building across the alley and, surprisingly, the soles kick out some foamy stabilizer, pushing past the pool of water, adhering to the metallic surface and finally pulling me off the edge, onto the rooftop. My torso jeers forward from the momentum and I nearly taste the floor.

The rain is thick enough to almost mask me up here. The city lights are below this level. Only the moonlight, sparkling off the raindrops reveals my location as I patter across the deck. This building is huge. I don’t know how many stories. Hopefully nobody in the way as I run down the stairs.

The stairway smells like wet paint and bleach. The Janitors have already made their rounds. It appears I’ll be able to safely traverse this passage…

Three and a half flights down, a door swings open, almost laying me out with a thwack as I ran into it. There’s this night fellow, swinging a flashlight, looking at me with a discombobulation turning into a sour grimace. This isn’t good. Instinctively, my body reacts. His flashlight flies though the air, bouncing out of his broken hand. I catch it as I run past, down the stairs, hearing the siren of whistles along the way.

This isn’t over. I run faster.

280 words in 10 minutes at 07:53 AM on Jan 15, 2010



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