Balcony

You walk up to the front door and grasp the handle, it's cold. The door glides open to the left. You shuffle in from the stairwell and flip the light switch upward, nothing. On your right is a coffee table consisting of unpaid bills, a pink slip, and letters of condolences on the surface. The heat is also off. Dead flowers within vases adorn your countertops, shelves, and tables to pay respects.

    You drag your bag and place it upon the ground, you’re on Academic Leave from the school you attend until further notice. Grades drop when you can’t find a reason to keep them up. You walk down a thin corridor, two doors lie on either side, one to your bedroom and one to your bathroom. You choose the left, to your bedroom. Your feet drag slightly across the dirtied carpet as you enter. A stuffed gorilla lays on the floor. It was your favorite toy as a child, you kneel down grasping its petite arm and embrace it. 

It doesn’t make you feel happy or safe like it used to, nothing does anymore. You return out to the living room with your pet. The air is stale from lack of filtration, you decide to step out onto the balcony for fresh air. It lies past the coffee table to your left. The sliding door sticks as you force it open. The air rushes over you, it’s brisk, but refreshing. You hold onto your gorilla leaning against a guardrail, long way down from twentieth floor. The view is of smog, factories, and a filthy city life. Why did I ever leave home? You ask yourself. A breeze sweeps across your face, two vertical lines feel colder than the rest of your face due to tears. You brush the hair from your face, people at school never liked it. Didn’t suit your plain face they said. Makes you look stupid they said.

    Those words etch the inside of your brain. You find yourself sitting up on the rail. Swaying your feet back and forth dangling them, the air has numbed your whole body by now, inside and out. You rock back and forth gently, your hands loosen each pass. Before you can halt yourself, you release your grip from the world, no time for a second thought. Plummeting forward you accept your fate, too late to return now. So many unrealized regrets until the end. The concrete below is an unforgiving mistress, but it will accept you soon.

    Your gorilla is still tightly clutched within your hand, it will remain with you, until the end, bidding you the final farewell.