She climbed out of the stairwell into the cold air. Sixteen floors. High enough. Below her the city slumbered, its grimy dreams threading the last breath of night and the still incubating dawn. Her mind raced haphazardly through time, sifting through the randomness of that moment for a familiar anchor. Something to hold on to as she fell.
The sun was setting and the light changed throwing dusty halos around the animals as the old woman slowly led her goats across the road. They had waited in the car till the herd disappeared into the distance, just the two of them in the twilight, wrapped in a private medley of purple and red, eternity silent, watching them through the tall trees…
Sixteen floors. She moved her foot closer to the edge.
the first spring moon
carefully serenades the rose
hiding its dark side