>Windows.

>“Its strange to look down from here. All these people, scurrying about, running their own prime time shows. Such pests. Leeches”, she said and looked down at her feet. There was a wide cut on the sole. Shards of broken glass were lying around her.

She was sitting on the ledge outside the topmost window of a nine story building. Drops of blood fell down to the streets below. She seemed fascinated and disgusted at the same time, at the view below her.

“Leeches?”, he asked.
“ Yes, them creatures. We live off others’ happiness and miseries. We are dependent on others for survival, as also for death.” She swung her legs to see if the blood had stopped. It was making her quite nauseous. She looked up at the inky night, not wanting to look down. The stars were yet to come out.

“Dependent on others for death?”
“ We wait for it to come to us. We watch others bring it to us on a platter. With many options to choose from- incurable illness, murder, fatal accident, melancholia, isolation.. Death brings its own devices. Why don’t you do a neat job of it on your own?”
The faint moonlight highlighted her soft expression, that of mild inquisitiveness.

“Probably because suicide is cowardice? And a legal offence if you don’t succeed.”
“What is cowardly about committing suicide? You need courage to kill yourself. To know that this easy life you have been leading will come to an end. And you will be thrown into this unseen, unknown world, all alone probably. And it stops your parasitic existence. You don’t have to wait for anyone. You do it your way.”, she muttered,in a very matter of fact tone.

She got up with easy grace and stood on tiptoe and spread her arms. They were blue, because of the cold and bruised. There was no breeze what so ever. But it seemed like a gust of wind will come and drag her away and she was readying herself.

The door opened and a woman’s head popped in for a brief moment.
“ Its time. If you are done, you may come join us.”
He didn’t bother answering.

She turned around smiling, and whispered, “And what makes you think I won’t succeed?”
He smiled, finished drawing the lines of a window broken as if a stone was thrown at it and went down to dinner.

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