Petunia and the Sixty Foot Drop

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Petunia stared dully down her nose one last time at the glittering landscape below her before dropping the necklace into the twinkling snow sixty feet down. She watched the golden chain undulate in slow motion, getting thinner as it dropped, disappearing when her tears blurred her vision, morphing the street lights and neon signs into one big pulsing blob of warm inviting light.


Petunia dangled her hand out in front of her, enjoying the rush of adreneline she got just by seeing part of herself hover dangerously over St. Catherine’s street. A wild smile crept onto her wet face, and ignited her eyes with a glint of fire. She wobbled unsteadliy as she balanced herself on one foot, her other foot now joining her hand over the edge of the apartement roof. An ambulence rushed by on the street below, catching Petunia off guard. Her knee buckled and she completely lost control of her body. She could only hope to remain on the roof as she tumbled down. After what seemed like whole minutes passed, her head cleared and she calmly reentered the world, realizing indifferently that she had remained on the roof, in a seated position, her feet dangling off the edge and her torso slumped toward the road.



She wondered for the first time where her body would have landed if she toppled over the edge instead of landing safely on the roof. Would she have landed on the street? Or maybe somewhere in the soft glittering snow, near her necklace? She leaned over the edge, contemplating the different paths she could have gone. Petunia scooted closer now, getting a better look at the world below. The lights were warm and welcoming, long arms reaching up to tug on her fake fur boots. One of her boots slipped off of her foot, falling silently into the blanket of snow below. A giggle escaped Petunia’s chapped lips, and she bent over, trying to spot the hole her boot made. She found the whole in a mountain of soft snow, and calculated that her necklace lay somewhere close by, to the right. She took two huge, stinging breaths while she explored the path they must have gone down, and when she finished her second gulp of air, she felt finally satiated, like two lungfuls of this night’s air was all that she ever needed or wanted. She pushed herself off the edge, following the path of her necklace and her boot.





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Angelou said...
Jun. 20, 2009 at 10:14 pm
I wonder what it would be like to look sixty feet down and know that if fell I'd land in a blanket of snow.
 
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