Status: This story is written in both characters points of views, their thoughts are indicated by parenthesis and brackets. Lorne's thoughts are in brackets and Nera's are in parenthesis.
On the Roof
Not Alone
I have made the diplomatic decision to terminate my life. Nothing horrendous has pushed me over the edge. I haven’t been bullied, abused, or relentlessly tormented by anyone or anything; I just feel my time on this earth has come to an end. I’m not scheduled to die soon; I’m actually quite healthy given my age. But I have no one to share my health and time with: anyone I once associated myself with is long gone. I live alone; I have no kids, no grandkids, and no siblings, so why stay here?
I've decided the ideal way for me to go is to jump off the roof of my first apartment building. It’s not in a populated area so I won’t be traumatizing anyone. Besides, I started my real life there; there’s beautiful irony in ending my life at the beginning. Irony or symbolism, I don’t remember which one is deeper. It used to be quite pretty on the roof, with a beautiful view of the city. I’ve always wanted to go skydiving anyways, why not have a lovely view on my way down?
This roof isn’t as clean as it used to be. And the view sucks. It smells of garbage and alcohol up here. The city wears a smog tutu, which really isn’t a good look. I took a girl up here once; I used to be such a charmer. This place was romantic gold; there were tiny lights dancing the border of the roof like lightning bugs as the city winked in the distance, full of excitement and opportunity. Now the lights are gone, broken glass has taken its place. Just like me, this once lively and young city is old and worn. Oh well, I’m here for a reason aren’t I? Might as well.
Stepping up to the roof is strangely exciting, like sitting on a rollercoaster hearing the systematic clicking of the tracks hoisting you up just to push you over the edge. The process begins. [Close your eyes. Take a deep breath. Accept your fate. Stretch you arms out wide and- WHY DO I HEAR BREATHING?]
I've decided the ideal way for me to go is to jump off the roof of my first apartment building. It’s not in a populated area so I won’t be traumatizing anyone. Besides, I started my real life there; there’s beautiful irony in ending my life at the beginning. Irony or symbolism, I don’t remember which one is deeper. It used to be quite pretty on the roof, with a beautiful view of the city. I’ve always wanted to go skydiving anyways, why not have a lovely view on my way down?
This roof isn’t as clean as it used to be. And the view sucks. It smells of garbage and alcohol up here. The city wears a smog tutu, which really isn’t a good look. I took a girl up here once; I used to be such a charmer. This place was romantic gold; there were tiny lights dancing the border of the roof like lightning bugs as the city winked in the distance, full of excitement and opportunity. Now the lights are gone, broken glass has taken its place. Just like me, this once lively and young city is old and worn. Oh well, I’m here for a reason aren’t I? Might as well.
Stepping up to the roof is strangely exciting, like sitting on a rollercoaster hearing the systematic clicking of the tracks hoisting you up just to push you over the edge. The process begins. [Close your eyes. Take a deep breath. Accept your fate. Stretch you arms out wide and- WHY DO I HEAR BREATHING?]