Escape Artists

Fear, I suppose is what made him step back. Gutless, people had called him and as he swallowed a deep breathe of the night time, he realised that they were right. The realisation almost was enough to convince him to sleep back up and over. Fumbling through his pockets, he pulled out the battered cigarette box and slowly took out a cigarette. Attempting to light it, he failed. Steadying his tremor, his second attempt was successful. 'Well if I can't kill myself one way..' he thought aloud to no-one in particular.

Reaching out to an unturned empty crate, he straightened it and sat down. His legs had turned to jelly. The night time sky was of a purplish black. The stars, holes in a canvas. He'd never thought of it as beautiful before. Exhaling, he watched the smoke blow away into the sky. A minute insignificant. Just like his being in the world, not visible on a grander scale.

Listening, he could hear the sounds of a city, not quite asleep. Bins being knocked over in the alley way below told him of a stray pet, who's master had forgotten to feed and love it, left to fend for itself. He felt a connection. Elsewhere he heard a smash followed by a car alarm. Disappointed by other people's actions, he sighed and stepped back up onto the ledge...