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Inhaling,Exhaling.

It hurt his lungs,and yet he did it again 5 times. And looked again.

In front, the wide horizon curtained in black, under ,the noisy old street lights, cars honking, people shouting-- whining.

He had his stoic look on his face now. He found it strange,but he somehow felt alive with it.

It made him,in a way--free. Ousted from his usual sickly sweet grins and phony glitter woos.

Thoughts entered again, memories flashed. From pastel red to green and then yellow,like butterflies swarming his consciousness. Then it grayed and turned black.

It turned red almost as if it could consume his entirety.

Almost was the word.

And he let it consume him.

His grip on the rail loosened,his feet barely hanging on the brim of the deck .

His head slipping its breaks,the air slapping his face.

He counted one to three,and he scoffed at his own vagary.

Who the hell comes out at 2 midnight on their apartment deck?

Apparently he does.

With one swift inhale, for the last time, he let go of the rail, readied himself for the vast nothingness.

And then he was surprised by the grip on his body,

by the grip around his body.

"What the heavens are you doing?!!" She barked.

He sighed and smiled.