George sits on the roof of his building admiring the view. He can see for miles around despite the fog and the city looks so peaceful from up here. It's early but there are already a few early birds scurrying around. It's like an ant farm down there already. He remembers having one as a kid and he recalls how the ants would run around in confusion when he'd shake it. He thinks that the effect would be the same if he were to drop in on the people down on the street unannounced.
His shoes are next to him on the ledge and he removes his wallet and cellphone and places them there as well. They're a good pair of shoes, one of his favourites but they've seen better days. He remembers the day he bought them. He had been in the mall and had seen them in the window of a shop. They were just what he had been looking for and on the spur of the moment he'd bought them. That was a long time ago. There wasn't money for such indulgences these days and this particular pair had been to the shoemaker for repairs many times.
It's getting warmer now and brighter. The morning mist was dissolving before the fierce resolve of the rising sun and it wouldn't be long before someone spotted him up here on the roof and raised the alarm. Better to do the deed before that happened.
"Cop shoots wife and then himself" was yesterday's headline. Cops are very partial to suicide it seems. He wonders what will be his headline tomorrow.
" 'George goes splat' perhaps", he muses with a grin. "Will I even make the papers", he wonders, "or will I just be a footnote; a little echo to all the anguished screams reported on from around the world?"
" 'George goes splat and doesn't even make a ripple' "
"That sounds more appropriate and would sum up my life quite nicely."
It's time. With joints popping he gets to his feet.
" 'A journey of a thousand feet straight down begins with the first step' to paraphrase Chairman Mao.", thinks George wryly. A movement to his right catches his eye. He turns to look and notices that his wallet has flopped open and looking straight at him with a disapproving look is his wife Lydia.
"Don't look at me like that." says George softly.
"I need you, George," says Lydia, "And so does Amy."
Amy is George and Lydia's six month old daughter and this entire conversation is taking place inside George's head. Not that, that makes it any less real for George. Mental anguish has a way of breaking down the barriers between the real and the imagined world.
"But I failed you and I failed Amy. Why would you want to be stuck with someone like me who can't provide for his family."
Tears are streaming down his face and the view from the ledge is now badly distorted.
"I married you for better or worse my love. Come back to us. Please come back to us. We need you."
George takes a final look at the photo in his wallet and with tears in his eyes steps off the ledge.
Lying in bed that night with Lydia's head on his chest George recalls the headline he had made up that morning.
George goes splat
He smiles.
George overcomes adversity with his family by his side
A bit long but a much better headline.
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