The cars looked so small to him now. He thought it would be cliché to even think of them as ants so he envisioned them as rocks rolling down a hill towards a small innocent town. His foot leaned off the edge of the building. His other foot lingered as if questioning what to do, but soon followed and found itself in an uncomfortably safe place. There were two ear buds in his ears because he always listened to music when he had the chance.

Felix had a Physics report due the next week on Monday. He liked Physics most out of his classes and always did well on assignments. This particular report was on gravity and its effects on society. He had thought about taping his report to his t-shirt and put a sign in big black letters that read VISUAL AID. But he thought that was too sick of a joke and he didn’t want people to see him as sadistic. Thinking of this assignment made him wonder about his school.
As he plunged beyond the 84th floor he saw a man in a window chomping down on a sandwich. He and his friends ate lunch outside just about every day (when it was as nice as it was in the spring). They sat on benches and in the grass, and usually threw a frisbee. He wondered how they would feel without him there. He knew there would be tears, and probably a day or two of no eating, just solemn conversations. He hadn’t really thought (until now) about how many people he would make cry.
By now people had cleared out the spot where he would hit, but no sort of authority was there because his fall did not last longer than ten seconds. He looked down the street and saw a balloon floating away and the teary face of the balloon’s little owner. Felix had a seven-year-old sister who was about to undergo the sacrament of Reconciliation three weeks from Sunday. She had been studying for months and he remembers the note he wrote her saying “I’m always here if you need help studying, or if you just need someone to talk to.”
Falling past the 56th floor he noticed a hot dog vendor standing at a vacant stand. Felix worked at a gas station. He had been for about six months and was always around the always sickening aroma of hot dogs. He only ever talked to one of the guys at his work. His manager was always out stocking shelves and quenching the thirsts of the thirsty coolers and freezers. He wondered if his manager would come to his funeral or just give a sympathetic sigh when he saw Felix’s name in the obituaries.
He now fell past the 37th floor and saw a small slash mark on the sidewalk below him. It was drawn in white chalk. He then imagined the faces of his family and his few friends drawn on the sidewalk below. They were colorful and used every color of the rainbow. This vision slowly faded as he realized how close to the ground he was encroaching. Always wanting to do a flip while flying through the air he swung his feet above his head. The wind, now thrashing against his eyes from the velocity he had gained, forced tears from his eyes that ran up his cheeks and into the sky above.
Midway through his flip the back of his head smashed the ground. His chin pressed into his chest snapping the spinal cord on the back of his neck. Felix’s blood spread a little onto the sidewalk, but soon spread out. Where he had imagined the faces of those who loved him, was now smoothed over red. Their eyes blocked out by someone they loved, and they are then blinded to him forever.