Hanging Around

“He's gonna do it!”
“He's gonna jump!”

At 5:37 PM, a man was standing on the ledge of a building that happened to be a hotel. Presumably, he rented a room before making his way up to room 915, opening the freshly streaked window, and climbing out on the ledge using the convenient balcony. This spectacle caused a crowd of people to gather around below in addition to the numerous strobe lights of emergency vehicles that appeared much more palliative than preventive. As if traffic was bad enough during rush hour.

Funnily enough, earlier that day, that very same man wasn't too worried about his life and how long it would last. As usual, he began his hour long commute to work. He lived outside the city in the safety of the suburbs, a place where he was born and raised and where his father was born and raised, etc. He definitely wasn't a big city boy, but he had little choice given his circumstance. Living on his own and attempting to pay the bills on an art degree would be nearly impossible, even though he knew his artwork had a permanent residence in his mother's home (“So proud of you! So proud!”).

The man wasn't one for presentations, but his boss insisted he lead this one. After all, what better use for an art degree than the creation of infinite charts and graphs plotting the progress of some office supply company? His daily commute was a little less lonely, however, what with the pieces of cardboard in the passenger seat to keep him company. He needed someone to talk to, especially this morning. Between getting out of bed late and destroying his coffee with creamer, he was falling behind in his schedule. He was late and the traffic lights were not helping him. They swung back and forth with an embarrassed red emitting from them as if they were sorry about it and there was nothing they could do about it. He took a sip from his coffee between the stop and go. Green light. Red light. Green light. Red light. The man took his eyes away for a second to take another sip when the car behind him honked, causing him to fumble his thermos up and down the dashboard. He saved it, but not before turning quarter profits into a caffeine loaded Niagara Falls.

That's it. He was done with this for now. The car was pulled over into the parking lot of the nearest bar and the man called to let his boss know that due to an emergency, he wouldn't be able to make it to the presentation and to go on without him. Slam the door. Walk inside. Sit down at the front. He had this plan all figured out.

What he didn't have figured out was a man. Well, he was less a man and more of a demon. Perhaps more like a reaper of sorts than a demon. He didn't do much of the haunting or possessing. He did, however, do a little of soul repossessing, taking back a soul to an afterward after they were done here. With the world getting a little more full everyday, the pressure was on for him and the death figure needed all the help he could get. Having spotted Potential Suicide Man at the bar, he took the stool next to him. The man was quick to start up a conversation, letting him know of his current issue of the day. Death quickly let him know of his current issue and gave him a hotel key to a room on the 9th floor (great view, but lacked decent room service). After weighing the pros and cons, the man took the key and drove over to the hotel.

Death was right about one thing: the room did have a decent view. The pavement didn't look so hard from up there. Despite the circumstances, the man had a calm disposition and only muttered phrases under his breath (“Oh, what a great view from up here. Oh, what many lights there are down there. Better for the attention I suppose”). He stayed up there for at least twenty minutes. Even the optimists were starting to get bored.

“Woah, woah, hold up!” The hotel room door opened and the man peaked through the balcony window only to see Death walking towards him. “Listen, I know what I said earlier, but that street would look a lot better without you fused to it. The thing is, we're overbooked for the next few weeks. Go back to your life, enjoy it. Don't fret about those crazy graphs. Besides, if I need more people, I'll just work the suicide hotline or something. Christmas is coming up soon. Tis the season to be lonely.” Somehow, the skeleton sighed. “Go back home,” he said, and left the room with the man still on the ledge.