Rooftops
The mild chill of early winter and sporadic raindrops have their way of dancing you into your thoughts. Even though its chilly, as soon as you're in your head, you don't feel the cold anymore. Actually it's quite cozy. It feels like you're under control. That is how Greg felt that evening. He closed his eyes while feeling the vast emptiness in his chest, but the raindrops were poking him back to reality, urging him not to go there, not to dwell over the past.
The view from his office balcony was nice, it was not astounding, but with just enough space to feel the city's breath beneath him. The red sky above him, a typical landscape of an urban jungle, painted by the orange street lights bleeding into the thick mist created from the smoke, dust and air humidity, once again seemed to him as if shielding the eyes of the city from a stellar event no one was supposed to see. Like a veil on all of our heads, at the same time protecting us, and smothering us, keeping us in the dark. And the rooftops.....oh,the rooftops. Greg loved watching the rooftops, the timeless witnesses of so many things that happened around here. Green, orange, red, subtly reflecting the city lights, cleaned by the rain that day, seemed brand new, as if they were laid out a couple of minutes ago. People are coming and going, but the rooftops are there, timeless and silent. The rooftops, shielding the buildings and the houses underneath them, protecting so many lives, like stern covers of so many different stories.
"The old man is out again. I wonder what is he thinking. Whatever it is, is it worth it?", Greg thought while looking at a balcony in the building across. The one with the green rooftop. An old man, mid 70's, was coming out every once in a while, smoking a cigarette. Sometimes wearing sweatpants, sometimes overalls, stained with white splashes of color. Greg always had an impression that there is some hardship in his life, something that bothers him, and only he knows what it is. He keeps it to himself, as if sharing it will make it worse. He would just sit there, seeming relieved with every puff of smoke he would inhale. What was his life about? Is he happy with his life? Maybe if he would have a chance to go back 30-40 years in time, would he do some things differently? The old man didn't even notice Greg, it seemed as if in his world there were just him and his cigarette.
In the building next to him, the one with the orange roof, a few stores below, a couple was arguing. Again. Greg saw them argue before. He also saw them having sex before. He even saw them happy before, once or twice. But mostly, he would see them argue. What were they arguing about? Is it worth it? Why was it so hard for them to find happiness? If they did not love each other, why were they still together? Was it just a habit? Maybe they do love each other? Even if so, is it really worth it? The man shouted some last words, got out of the room and slammed the door behind him. The woman, stood for a couple of seconds, dropped on the couch behind her and burst into tears.
A sound of a running engine was coming from the street beneath Greg. A black sedan parked infront of the furniture store placed in the ground floor of the building where Greg's offices were. A girl with long black hair, came out, a girl Greg new well. He saw her before while coming to the office, wanted to talk to her so many times, but did not have the courage. He liked the way she walks, the way the sound of her high heals reflected her self-confidence, the way she was waving her hands when she would speak on the phone. He liked many things about her, but, too bad she didn't even know his name. Too bad she didn't know that he even existed.
He hated himself for being so weak. What's even worse, his self-hatred was easily the strongest and most powerful thing he possessed. The only place he felt calm was that balcony in the evening, where the cold and the rooftops were his friends, reminding him that he exists,giving him comfort that even when he is gone, they will still be there, knowing his story.It seemed to Greg that, if he would have to say goodbye to someone before he dies, that the balcony would be the right place to do so.
And so he did.
He gave out another long and empty look towards the rooftops in front of him, and slowly leaned forward. As he was standing on the ledge all this time, he had the balcony behind him, holding the balcony's iron bar with both hands, firmly in the beginning, but now he already started to slowly let go. "It is time,I finally find peace", he thought.
- "Don't do it", yelled the old man from the building with the green roof. "You don't have to do it, boy. Whatever it is, trust me.....you can get through it."
Greg grabbed the iron bar again, and looked at the old man. The rain drops seemed to go silent.They were still there, still spiking Greg's face in a shy and yet determined manner, but somehow, they were silent, like trying to give Greg a chance to speak.
- "Did you ....manage to do it? Did YOU make it through?", Greg asked.
- "Yes......yes I have.........it never fully goes away, but you come to terms with it......Don't do it ,son. You don't have to do it."
It was a moment the old man would never forget.It seemed to him as he was watching himself on that ledge.
- ".....I don't have to", Greg said, "but I want to.....I can't stand the emptiness in me anymore.I can't stand the noise of the howling of my hollow soul. I don't want to fight it anymore....it is not worth it."
"No....", the old man said, but then his breath stopped. Greg let go of the iron bar behind him, and flew into the broad space infront of him. In that split of a second, Greg flew through eternity. He felt as if the void in him closed, he felt whole again, and he felt peace. Then he felt nothing anymore.
A loud noise broke out when Greg hit the ground. The old man was standing on the balcony, the cigarette turned to ashes, still smoking in his hand.He was still shaking his head, in shock of what he witnessed. The young woman from the building with the orange roof came out to the balcony, looking down to the street, covering her mouth with both of her hands. After her, the man that was fighting with her, came out onto the balcony as well, clearly shocked, but he tried not to show it. He just put his arm around her, trying to comfort her.
Down at the street, people gathered, among them the young woman with the black hair. She screamed when she saw Greg, sat down on the stairs infront of the furniture shop and started crying. Someone got his phone out, and called the police, an older woman fainted, a young man asked "What happened? Was it a suicide? Does someone know him?".
"I knew him", the girl with the black hair said. "His name was Greg, he works in the office on the top of this building. I wanted to talk to him so many times, to say something, but I did not have the courage.And now......and now he's gone."
Greg opened his eyes. The raindrops were there, steady as ever. He was at the balcony, it was just him and the rooftops. How long did he stand there? He closed his eyes for just a couple of seconds, but it seemed to him as if a lifetime has passed.Then, the old man from across the building came out onto his balcony with his cigarette, and just as he was about to light it up, he saw Greg and stopped. Greg waved at him, the old man smiled, waved back, and lit his smoke. The emptiness in Greg was howling, but he knew he will learn how to live with it. Then and there, Greg decided he will learn how to smile, just as the old man does. Then he turned and went back into the office.
The rooftops were there, shiny and stern as ever. The fearless lid of all of our destinies, covers of the stories of our lives. Although they are invented as architectural necessities, they leave a certain impression of honor, a certain poetic defiance towards time. They will always keep Greg's secret, reflect his thoughts, and be there to keep him company even in his darkest hours.
The view from his office balcony was nice, it was not astounding, but with just enough space to feel the city's breath beneath him. The red sky above him, a typical landscape of an urban jungle, painted by the orange street lights bleeding into the thick mist created from the smoke, dust and air humidity, once again seemed to him as if shielding the eyes of the city from a stellar event no one was supposed to see. Like a veil on all of our heads, at the same time protecting us, and smothering us, keeping us in the dark. And the rooftops.....oh,the rooftops. Greg loved watching the rooftops, the timeless witnesses of so many things that happened around here. Green, orange, red, subtly reflecting the city lights, cleaned by the rain that day, seemed brand new, as if they were laid out a couple of minutes ago. People are coming and going, but the rooftops are there, timeless and silent. The rooftops, shielding the buildings and the houses underneath them, protecting so many lives, like stern covers of so many different stories.
"The old man is out again. I wonder what is he thinking. Whatever it is, is it worth it?", Greg thought while looking at a balcony in the building across. The one with the green rooftop. An old man, mid 70's, was coming out every once in a while, smoking a cigarette. Sometimes wearing sweatpants, sometimes overalls, stained with white splashes of color. Greg always had an impression that there is some hardship in his life, something that bothers him, and only he knows what it is. He keeps it to himself, as if sharing it will make it worse. He would just sit there, seeming relieved with every puff of smoke he would inhale. What was his life about? Is he happy with his life? Maybe if he would have a chance to go back 30-40 years in time, would he do some things differently? The old man didn't even notice Greg, it seemed as if in his world there were just him and his cigarette.
In the building next to him, the one with the orange roof, a few stores below, a couple was arguing. Again. Greg saw them argue before. He also saw them having sex before. He even saw them happy before, once or twice. But mostly, he would see them argue. What were they arguing about? Is it worth it? Why was it so hard for them to find happiness? If they did not love each other, why were they still together? Was it just a habit? Maybe they do love each other? Even if so, is it really worth it? The man shouted some last words, got out of the room and slammed the door behind him. The woman, stood for a couple of seconds, dropped on the couch behind her and burst into tears.
A sound of a running engine was coming from the street beneath Greg. A black sedan parked infront of the furniture store placed in the ground floor of the building where Greg's offices were. A girl with long black hair, came out, a girl Greg new well. He saw her before while coming to the office, wanted to talk to her so many times, but did not have the courage. He liked the way she walks, the way the sound of her high heals reflected her self-confidence, the way she was waving her hands when she would speak on the phone. He liked many things about her, but, too bad she didn't even know his name. Too bad she didn't know that he even existed.
He hated himself for being so weak. What's even worse, his self-hatred was easily the strongest and most powerful thing he possessed. The only place he felt calm was that balcony in the evening, where the cold and the rooftops were his friends, reminding him that he exists,giving him comfort that even when he is gone, they will still be there, knowing his story.It seemed to Greg that, if he would have to say goodbye to someone before he dies, that the balcony would be the right place to do so.
And so he did.
He gave out another long and empty look towards the rooftops in front of him, and slowly leaned forward. As he was standing on the ledge all this time, he had the balcony behind him, holding the balcony's iron bar with both hands, firmly in the beginning, but now he already started to slowly let go. "It is time,I finally find peace", he thought.
- "Don't do it", yelled the old man from the building with the green roof. "You don't have to do it, boy. Whatever it is, trust me.....you can get through it."
Greg grabbed the iron bar again, and looked at the old man. The rain drops seemed to go silent.They were still there, still spiking Greg's face in a shy and yet determined manner, but somehow, they were silent, like trying to give Greg a chance to speak.
- "Did you ....manage to do it? Did YOU make it through?", Greg asked.
- "Yes......yes I have.........it never fully goes away, but you come to terms with it......Don't do it ,son. You don't have to do it."
It was a moment the old man would never forget.It seemed to him as he was watching himself on that ledge.
- ".....I don't have to", Greg said, "but I want to.....I can't stand the emptiness in me anymore.I can't stand the noise of the howling of my hollow soul. I don't want to fight it anymore....it is not worth it."
"No....", the old man said, but then his breath stopped. Greg let go of the iron bar behind him, and flew into the broad space infront of him. In that split of a second, Greg flew through eternity. He felt as if the void in him closed, he felt whole again, and he felt peace. Then he felt nothing anymore.
A loud noise broke out when Greg hit the ground. The old man was standing on the balcony, the cigarette turned to ashes, still smoking in his hand.He was still shaking his head, in shock of what he witnessed. The young woman from the building with the orange roof came out to the balcony, looking down to the street, covering her mouth with both of her hands. After her, the man that was fighting with her, came out onto the balcony as well, clearly shocked, but he tried not to show it. He just put his arm around her, trying to comfort her.
Down at the street, people gathered, among them the young woman with the black hair. She screamed when she saw Greg, sat down on the stairs infront of the furniture shop and started crying. Someone got his phone out, and called the police, an older woman fainted, a young man asked "What happened? Was it a suicide? Does someone know him?".
"I knew him", the girl with the black hair said. "His name was Greg, he works in the office on the top of this building. I wanted to talk to him so many times, to say something, but I did not have the courage.And now......and now he's gone."
Greg opened his eyes. The raindrops were there, steady as ever. He was at the balcony, it was just him and the rooftops. How long did he stand there? He closed his eyes for just a couple of seconds, but it seemed to him as if a lifetime has passed.Then, the old man from across the building came out onto his balcony with his cigarette, and just as he was about to light it up, he saw Greg and stopped. Greg waved at him, the old man smiled, waved back, and lit his smoke. The emptiness in Greg was howling, but he knew he will learn how to live with it. Then and there, Greg decided he will learn how to smile, just as the old man does. Then he turned and went back into the office.
The rooftops were there, shiny and stern as ever. The fearless lid of all of our destinies, covers of the stories of our lives. Although they are invented as architectural necessities, they leave a certain impression of honor, a certain poetic defiance towards time. They will always keep Greg's secret, reflect his thoughts, and be there to keep him company even in his darkest hours.
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