No Moon

By , island lake, IL
The sky was lit by the lights of the city. The glimmer of each and every bulb deafened my iris. The breeze was temperate, not enough to make me worry. I looked down the building that was below my feet. With these kinds of things people would usually crowd around its base and call the police so that they, in all their professionalism, could coax me down to solidified safety. But there was no one. Not that I had truly expected anyone to notice until it was too late; after all, I’m just a step for everyone else; if even that. A flock of pigeons flew by, and I swore one looked at me. I thought there was a look of sympathy in its eye; that it had taken notice of my existence, but it only continued to fly on. My hood flew off my head from a sudden gale of wind. I stumbled backwards, and fell onto the gravel rooftop. I felt a sharp pain to the back of my skull, and tears began welling up in my eyes.

“Don’t you dare cry,” I told myself, “I’m pathetic enough as it is, don’t you dare cry.”

Yet I could not heed my own words. My cold cheeks stung with the diversity of my heated tears. But I made no sound. Not a whimper, not a sob, not a breath. The bleak clouds overhead broke, and my heart lifted with hope of seeing the beautiful moon. But she was not there. I was greeted by the empty sky, virgin of any stars; my lifted heart, now broken on the rooftop, just like me. I stood slowly. I didn’t brush the dirt off. I didn’t bother to wipe my tears; I just walked back to the buildings edge. Back to the earth I looked, and still; nobody was there. My eyes found their way to the sky once more, searching for a moon, a star, anything. Instead, I felt the overwhelming wind; the building I once was above now flew past me, the sky fading away. I was falling; the lonely sense of adrenalin coursing my every vein; but the pleasure I once took in it had evaporated long ago.

My body shook fiercely, like I had hit the concrete. But I sat up once I settled down. I could feel the softness of the ground; it was my mattress. The clock next to me reads 2:37AM, and sweat rolled down my forehead though my room is cold. I shakily rummage my headboard and find my phone. I press my only speed dial number and listen to the echoing rings. A monotone woman answers, “The caller you are trying to rea- ,” I slam the phone shut, anger and pity quickly finding their way to my eyes. I close my eyes for a moment, and then re-open them. I lean over to look out the window next to my bed and look painfully out to the sky. I had to check; but there was still no moon.





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