Tuesday, October 13, 2009


I once saw a neighborhood kid jump off from the balcony of his second story house with two umbrellas- one in each hand. It was a bet. Of course, I betted on him not succeeding. It wasn't on whether he would die or not. Those were innocent times.
Twok! He walked away with a sprained ankle.
He grew up to be a successful restaurateur.

Lindsay was a sullen girl who worked at an office not far from mine. She was a grad student working as a receptionist. She always wore black. Her short hair was unkempt. Her blue-ish eye makeup made her look even sadder. One day, she jumped out of her twelfth floor dorm room window.
Twok! She didn't make it.

This is one conversation I remember having with her once, outside our office building during our cigarette break.

What happened to your eyes?

What this? She pointed to her small, angular face. Dark bags under her pale penetrating eyes.

I had two hours of sleep. I was out all night. She smiled sheepishly.


Danced, danced, danced the night away. She exhaled.

You gotta take care yourself. It's bad for your health.

It's good for your soul. She winked.

I never asked what her major was, what her aspirations were, her plans...anything.
I wonder what she could've become if she decided not to jump.

1 comment:

  1. I know that kid. He actually landed on his bottom. Two years ago, he told that it still aches when it rains.