Meets me, or I Meet It?

I’m falling.

I’m just falling.

This feeling I know all to well, but some how, not well enough.

I watch the windows pass by on my way down. The light reflecting off of them in this fast pace version of life hypnotizes me. I spread my arms out and turn and face the ground, now speeding at me.

Speeding at me, or me speeding at it? I’m not quite sure.

As the ground drifts toward me, I can only think I forgot something. What was it? It has to be something important for me to keep thinking about it.

A Voyeur of the business life I might be as I pass the windows. Stop motion production of an office life, or rather, office sex. Gotta love those skimpy secretaries, and ‘late working’ husbands.

I turn back to the thought at question. What was it I forgot? Only a measly 50 feet from the ground. We meet with force and the alarms of the cars around me sound. A desolate scream from a woman. Just like the movies right?

And then it hits me like the ground. I wake up in a pool of my own sweat.

The phone.


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