I know that if I was going to jump from this building no one will catch me, but I’d like to think someone would.
Thinking about it is easy, but looking down from the 13th floor, the difficulty starts to increase.
As I open the window, the wind makes its last attempt to communicate with me in the way it knows best, by surrounding its force around my face and pushing against my body. It’s almost like I can hear it speak to me, making me feel important.
It’s funny how that happens. No one would notice if I was thinking about jumping off the 13th floor or understand the reasons why, but it felt like the wind did.
So I close the window and sit back at my workstation. I look at the computer screen and ponder about what just happened.
If I had jumped, would the wind have saved me?