Flying

I couldn't do it.
I couldn't stay in that tower, slowly burning to death, choking on hot air and the saliva pooling in my dry mouth.
The floor collapsed in the next room.
Andrew fell into the flames, screaming his terror.
The pounding feet of a hundred people raced for the roof.
Blue and white, blue and white, flashing light below my feet.
They wouldn't make it in time.
I couldn't do it. I couldn't stay in that tower, to burn to death.
Andrew’s dead.
We’ll all join him soon.
At least I'm dying with the wind in my face.