Capitol I

I'm standing here with my feet on either side of the railing looking down, twelve stories above Boston Street, and I can't help but think about suicide. Not at mine. I like my life enough to want to see how it goes. I focus more on other people and how they ultimately clome to the decision to take their own lives. Does he have any regrets? From the moment they throw themselves to the second before impact, in that brief free fall, there must be a hint of remorse. Do they look at the earth, see how it approaches them and think: "Ei bin fir-ar! Wasn't that a good idea?" Honestly, I don't think so. I think about death a lot. Especially today, after just twelve hours earlier, I gave one of the most memorable eulogies to which the people of Plethora, Maine , have ever witnessed. Okay, maybe it wasn't the most memorable. It might as well be considered the most disastrous. I guess it depends on who you ask: Mom or me. My mother, who probably won't speak to me for at least a year from now. Don't get me wrong; the eulogy I gave wasn't deep enough to go down in history like Brooke Shields' eulogy at Michael Jackson's funeral. Or the one spoken by Steve Jobs' sister. Or Pat Tillman's brother. But it was memorable in its own way. I was excited at first. It was the wonderful Andrew Bloom's funeral, after all. The adoring mayor of my hometown of Plethora, Maine. The owner of the most famous real estate agency in town. Husband of Jenny Bloom, Plethora's most valued teacher. And Lily Bloom's father - that strange girl with messy red hair who once fell in love with a homeless guy and brought shame on the whole family. That's me. I'm Lily Bloom and Andrew was my father. As soon as I finished today's eulogy, I flew straight to Boston and climbed the first roof I could find. I repeat, not because I want to kill myself. I'm not going to jump off this roof. I just needed some fresh air and quiet, and I'll be damned if I can get that in my third-floor apartment with no roof access and a roommate who likes to hear herself sing. However, I didn't realize how cold it can get here. It's not an unbearable temperature, but not a comfortable one either. But at least I can see the stars. Dead parents, exasperating roommates, and interpretive praise don't seem so terrible when the night sky is clear enough to truly feel the grandeur of the universe. I like it when the sky makes me feel insignificant. I like this evening. Well... let me rephrase it so that it better reflects my feelings, in the past tense. I enjoyed this evening. But unfortunately for me, the door just opened with such force that I expected someone to burst from the stairwell onto the roof. The door closes again and footsteps are heard along the floor. I don't even bother to look up. Whoever it is, most likely, won't even notice me here, standing on the edge of the roof, to the left of the door. He came here in such a hurry, it's not my fault if he thinks he's alone. I sigh softly, close my eyes and lean my head against the wall behind me, cursing the universe for robbing me of this moment of peace and introspection. The only good thing the universe could do for me now is to make sure that a woman came, and not a man. If I have to have company, I would prefer it to be a woman. I'm solid for my size and can probably take care of myself in most situations, but right now I'm too comfortable to be on a rooftop in the middle of the night alone with a stranger. I might fear for my safety and want to leave, and I really don't want to. Like I said before... I feel comfortable. Finally, I allow my gaze to drift to the figure leaning over the railing. How lucky I am, it's definitely a man. Even so, bent over, I can tell he's tall. The broad shoulders create a strong contrast with the delicacy with which he holds his head in his hands. I can barely make out how he takes a labored breath, then lets it out.

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