Good Night

The wind barks at my ears as I peer over my balcony. The busy streets had settled, and the winter night cold had started to bite. I see people untangling their scarves from their necks as they enter the warm restaurants below, while I stand there with my half-empty bottle, faded half-shirt and pants barely keeping me warm from the restless gushes of the midnight air.

As I put my bottle to the side, I notice a glowing orange light spilling across the paved pathways beneath me. I flinch as I pull my torso to the cold stone balustrade. I hunch over the railing to see the receptionist busily typing into her computer and the silent, empty lobby waiting patiently for more guests. I hoist myself up on the handrail and stare up at the sky. The little armoured men were on their march once again, their shields shimmering in every move. The late runners sprint to their rows, trailing behind a silvery white glow. I shuffle towards the edge of the handrail and close my eyes.

I remember her sweet face as she tucked me into my bed. "Parting is such a sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night till it be morrow." my Mother recited, pulling her voice down an octave before closing the door. She was fond of Shakespeare.

I opened my eyes and grabbed the bottle. 

"I wish I could see her," I mumbled, hugging my chest. I took a large swig and looked down. Empty road. Clearly, by then, the alcohol had gotten to my head. I took a deep breath and put down the bottle. 

I look up at the glittering sky and smile.

“Good night, Mother. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I yawn.

I shut my eyes and let go of my grip. 

Down 70 feet, with no hand to pull me back.