Rooftop

I give to you a story in two times eleventy-one words...

I stare out across the rooftops at the cold, white sunset. Around the still blinding light beckon indigo hues, tempting me to take flight. I peer over the edge to see a nondescript street littered with parked vehicles and sauntering pedestrians. My eyes close. I contemplate the leap after a running start from the roof’s center and see myself hurdle over the ledge. The wind whistles as I plummet through the twilight.

Except I do not hit the ground. Instead, my body hovers. After my initial shock, I scan the area for witnesses, but everyone and everything stands chaotically still.

I see movement. There stands a cloaked figure below me moving as if through a viscous fluid. I descend, upright, toward the sidewalk until my feet find the pavement. The world reanimates. A voice or thought or some lost idea surfaces, “What the mind and heart imagine, the soul creates. The body merely follows.” The cloaked figure peers from under the hood to reveal seering emerald eyes. The disembodied words repeat. The scene fades, as if a camera zooms out to reveal an evening laced with fog and fantasy. I feel an eerie peace.

I stare back across the rooftops at myriad sparkling lights, stars fallen from heaven. The nascent night coaxes me to linger, listen, and laugh aloud, vexing passersby below.