Wind rushes past my ears,

as my limbs thrash around in the open air.

I barely see the figure moving towards me.

The skylights that bounce of his suit of red and blue.

Time is running out,

for the ground seems only too eager to swallow me up whole.

But what do I want to happen?

To see him crack that smile only reserved for me.

The smile that shatters my focus into tiny glass shards.

To feel the rough pads of his fingertips caress my skin.

Yet he is not mine for he belongs to the people of New York.

Many depend on him to shoulder this burden, I depend on him.

My throat tightens from the piercing screams that escape me.

All I manage to utter through my small ragged gasps is a whispered name.

There is a hunched over man cradling the small body of a woman,

who lays limply like a puppet with severed strings.