by Zachary Belins

Created on: April 27, 2009

The cool night breeze came from the north, buffeting the young woman sitting on top of the ten-story building. Below her was a living circuit board, lights moving to and fro in the manner of frantic existence, of ants. Straight lines, parallel and perpendicular, that carried the lifeblood of the greatest city on the planet. That always made her chuckle, "greatest city" indeed. They were all so shallow. The city never slept because to sleep would be to stop, to think, to ponder its existence.

She brought the cigarette to her lips and took a deep breath.

It was her apartment building, where she had been living since she had gotten away from home. To her it seemed so long ago, though it had been only a few frenetic weeks. From a job at the local grocery store to drugs and alcohol, she had quickly found that city life was a sham. A complete waste. She had taken up observing people as they went about their day, watching their behavior from a distance. It all bespoke a great meaningless. Nothing but shallow avarice and base instincts drove them.

Being constantly pressed against it, part of the uncaring, unseeing flood of humanity, had desensitized her in a way. Cold eyes looked down at the street below, judging the distance as too far to survive if she were to fall. The luxury of fear had been ripped from her; the height did not faze her. She sat on the ledge, the breeze pushing her backwards slightly as if telling her to choose life.

"Honestly doesn't matter to me," she muttered, taking another pull from her cigarette.

People were scum. She was a person, so she must be scum too. Most intellectuals that bothered to consider those unalienable truths quickly turned morbid. Insanity became a problem, and several of the smartest individuals turned to stimulants, depressants, mental institutions, and what have you to escape the issue - seeing the big picture. Considering things from a universal perspective has led more than a few people to not only question the point of their existence, but to take their own lives.

She rocked back and forth, gaining momentum like a pendulum. A soft noise from behind, like a door closing, was masked by the general hubbub of the city that seemed to have permanently seeped into nature. As the cigarette smoldered to the butt, she tosses it off the roof, and soft steps came up from behind her.

"Alex?" inquired a hesitant male voice from behind, a short and pudgy man in his late twenties. He lived in the apartment next to hers, and had shown to be

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