Life on the Ledge

Balancing on the five inch window ledge, shivering in the bluster of another Edinburgh ‘breeze’, she looked down.  It didn’t seem such a good idea now – not so free, not so glorious – but what could she do?  The window itself was now shut, and even turning around didn’t seem all that possible.  She sat still and waited, delaying.

Despite the initial thrill of being four storeys up (and exposed to the watching world), life on the ledge was becoming boring.  She looked around, looking for distraction.  A few of the windows opposite displayed the shapes of strangers, unaware of her perilous position.  One was hanging their laundry on a rail above a radiator, another seemed to be reading a magazine in front of the television (although she couldn’t see the television).  She stretched her neck slightly, just to be sure.

Too far.  Another gust rattled up the side of the building, throwing her off balance.  She teetered for one terrified moment, looking around frantically for anything that might help her.  But gravity took hold: an empty breezy silence for slightly more than a second, then a dull crack, as she crumpled helplessly into concrete.

                                               —- epilogue —-

I just went downstairs to collect my mint plant from its resting place.  The fall had broken her pot (hence the crack), but she seems to be alright, bless her.  I don’t think I’ll leave her on the ledge again.

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