Making notes about—
Something
Something Lucy had said
I don’t know
It wasn’t important
At the time, it might have been
But now
Years later
No
It’s not
It’s not memorable
And so—
I’m sitting there
On the edge of the bed
Notebook in my lap
Or journal
This old journal I bought
Off the discount rack
At the bookstore
I lived next to
And I heard something…
Now
I don’t really know
How to categorize it
But—
It sounded
Like someone falling
To be clear
It was not the sound of—
And I apologize
For seeming graphic here
But—
It was not the sound
Of someone
Hitting pavement
Or anything awful like that
It was the sound
Of someone falling
As in—
The act of falling
I ran over to the window
Well, first
I thought to myself--
Am I hearing
What I think
I’m hearing?
Or—
Or—
Am I hearing anything at all?
Then I thought—
Then I thought—
I am
I must be
So I ran over to the window
And I looked—
And nothing was there
I mean, nobody was falling
Nothing was happening
There was nobody—
Again, excuse me
But—
There was nobody on the ground
I looked up
Thinking perhaps
I’d had a premonition
Nobody was on the roof
That I could see
And anyway
My building is only two stories high
So a fall
Wouldn’t necessarily kill you
It probably wouldn’t
Actually
So I started looking all around
At different buildings
Different rooftops
Nothing
Nothing
But I couldn’t step away from the window
I couldn’t escape the feeling
That I had—
Sensed something
That I had—
That something was going to happen
Or already had happened
And maybe it was miles away or something
But it was there
Somewhere
Out there in the world
That sound
This breath-bottling sound
Of somebody
Suspended
In the process of—of—of—
Surrender
And I was listening
And I heard it
And there was nothing I could do
I stood there at the window
I couldn’t move
I couldn’t speak
I could barely…
I just stood there
And waited
And, you know, I—
I didn’t even know
What I was waiting for
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