[ WP ] Free write . Write the first short story that pops into your head .

The Rest of My Life 
 
 My workday was typical, starting promptly at nine in the morning and ending promptly at five in the afternoon. It took approximately 30 minutes for the underground to take me to my car, and another 15 minutes or so to arrive back at my house. 
 
 My wife was still out, presumably with my child as well. I thought then it was a grand idea to pour myself a drink. 
 
 The house special at my house was whiskey. I would have preferred it on the rocks, but my wife says that any man who uses ice in his drink might as well not be a man at all. 
 The truth is, I am not making very much money at all. My wife knows this and is very upset with me. She tells me that I have to make more money and work more hours, otherwise our child will live a terrible life. 
 
 I sat there for some time drinking a few glasses of my whiskey, and the afternoon slipped carelessly into the evening without my knowledge. 
 
 At around a quarter to seven, I figured I should phone my wife, to make sure that everything was alright. The child had another appointment at the doctor today, but I could have sworn she said it was early in the day. 
 
 She did n't pick up so I decided to give the house a quick once over just to make sure they were not in another room without knowledge that I had come home. 
 I walked into my bedroom and found no sight of them. The window was closed rather hastily, and the latch was undone. 
 
 My wife's closet door was ajar and upon further investigation, empty as well. I could not believe my eyes. 
 On my bed side table was a note that had not been there when I woke up at seven thirty that morning. 
 I grabbed it and read through it rather hastily. 
 
 `` I am taking our son and leaving you. I can not stand to be with you anymore. I will be back tomorrow morning to collect my the rest of my things. I'm sorry you had to find out this way. Goodbye.'' 
 I stared at the paper in shock for several moments, and with a shudder I placed the note back down carefully on my bedside table. I sat on the bed for a few moments and picked up a piece of paper and a pen myself. I placed a second note and left it on top of the one left by my wife. 
 *** 
 `` So are you sure you want to do this?'' The man in the brown trench coat asked me. It may not have been cold that night, but it was certainly windy as can be. 
 
 `` I am sure.'' I replied. This was really the only thing I wanted to do now. I could not stop thinking about it the entire ride here. 
 
 `` Follow me'' he grumbled as he beckoned toward a door. The door led to a long flight of stairs. 
 
 `` Is there no elevator?'' I asked him, wondering why we had to walk up 20 some odd stories or so. 
 
 `` No, it has to be stairs. It is the way it has to be done.'' He replied grimly. I knew what he meant, but I hoped I could get that moment if relaxation that an elevator trip provides. 
 As we reached the top, there was a single door with a polished handle. He turned it and I walked through the doorway. 
 *** 
 I was only a few feet from the edge of the building. He told me to count to one hundred and twenty before I did anything. I nodded and he made his way back down the stairs, this time sporting a rather large check from me. 
 
 I counted downwards, as it seemed to make more sense. Then as I took my last step, I felt the wind gushing down on me and gravity's sweet embrace dragging me down. 
 In that moment I was free for the rest of my life. 

