Leap - March 24, 2012

[note: this was written during a writing exercise: we had 20 minutes to write something inspired by the word "leap". This is the result, unedited, exactly as it appeared when time ran out. You can read all of them in the waves category]]

Leap- Squiddy Geiger - March 24, 2012

James pressed himself against the cold brick fearfully. How the hell had he gotten himself into this mess? Everything had seemed to progress perfectly, exactly as he'd hoped, and yet here he was. Alone, abandoned by the woman he'd given up everything for. Alone, five stories above the cold hard pavement, on a cold hard ledge.

He'd left his wife of fifteen years for her. It was true, the love had gone out of their marriage but there had still been affection. The excitement had gone, but there was still, occasionally, fun. The wonder had gone, but there was comfortable familiarity. And he'd thrown it all away, for her.

She'd dazzled him. She'd flattered him. She'd cajoled him into thinking she really was the one for him. That she was so much better than his wife. That they would live happily ever after. He'd resisted temptation before. He'd resisted similar flattery and whispered promises. Why hadn't he resisted this time? What was it about her that had made him take the leap this time?

It didn't matter now, he thought bitterly. He had given in to her. He'd left his wife. And that had lost him many of his friends, who sided with his wife. Indirectly, it had lost him his job. It had lost him the respect of family and friends. And finally, it had cost him his self respect, when she'd finally tossed him aside like an old toy.

It was cold, up here on the ledge, just as it was cold wherever he went lately. His apartment was cold and empty. His accounts were empty. His heart was empty. He could not see hope. He could not see a future. He sighed, whispered a final "I'm sorry", unheard by his wife, and took the final leap.

Posted by Squiddy at March 24, 2012 11:57 PM | TrackBack