Short story zwei
It’s the dawn of the man himself. Eyes closed with his neck arched, his freckled face is exposed to the mighty cobalt sky streaked with the waning moon’s rays. What would Amelia think of him? He swallows, notices a lump in his throat and swallows harder. The wind atop the twenty-third and one-hundredth floor demands tears to form with its strength. Rick is no exception, despite being all that he is.
Clouds of grey hang over the sky. “Ready to give way”, he thinks anxiously.
He cracks his knuckles; goes over the meticulous plan he hatched in his head for the umpteenth time. He heaves his six-foot-tall frame over the railing and with one lurch, sets his body into a free fall. The whole motion was as clean as a toiled artist’s masterful brushstroke. Lights zip past his eyes, with tears blurring them.
The One-hundredth floor has an animation studio. He knows this. He also knows that Mark in Rendering is working on something novel and silently wishes him good luck. Rick doesn’t believe in it. He wouldn’t be in this situation if luck existed. The seventy-sixth floor has a Pan-Asian restaurant, run by an immigrant household. Thoughts of their family bonding over the dinner table after a long day’s work dance in his head. What must they have felt when the Michelin Star landed on the board!
Diving head first might not be a good idea here. One must have the ability to think and feel till the final moment. Shadowy figures from a strange gathering confuse Rick as he tries to manoeuvre his body parallel to the ground. Arms stretched out and accustomed to the feeling of falling through, he notices a kid on the forty-seventh-floor chasing after a balloon. “Happy Birthday, Christine”, he yells at the six-year-old in a wine-coloured dress and a tiara. She can’t hear him, of course. No one does.
He momentarily closes his eyes and pictures Amelia in her brown overalls, curly hair and chocolate lipstick. He tries to erase her frown and draw her a smile instead but fails. The nineteenth floor is a sign-language centre. A couple of kids come running to the glass panes and stick their faces to them, distorting their features flat. The concrete road is fast approaching and fire burns in his bones. Eight floors and he can already sense his proximity to the traffic on the road. He did not want to disappoint Amelia. Someone gets out of the elevator that calls “Fourth floor” and they make eye contact with Rick for a split second.
It’s time. It’s time to say goodbye to the fear within him, the fear of disappointing Amelia with his mediocrity. He would never be able to rest if not for this. His strong legs kick the air underneath him and he cups his palms together. At the height of a two-storey building, he concentrates the heat from his palms and fires up his feet thrusters. Lo and behold, with one giant leap of faith and otherwise, he propels himself up successfully and manages to gain balance. He slowly inches up towards the neighbouring building and lands in front of his sister. She winks at him with playful pride and Rick knows all she wants to do, now that he’s passed his test is to race across the wild plains and he wouldn’t want it any other way!
The goal in Naya’s life: Learning to look through the lens of optimism.
Note from Naya
Tomorrow’s my 22nd birthday! Have been waiting for a while now just so I could vibe to Taylor’s ‘22’. But otherwise, I’m swimming in a large pool of thoughts about turning a year older (and wiser?). Would you care to listen to them?
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