36 Floors

Jack's knuckles were white as he clamped onto the rough, cold cornerstone of the thirty six floor. He squinted his eyes, from the clawing fingers of chilly wind. Through worn soles of his shoes he could almost grip the stony ledge with his quivering toes. Under concealment of night he released his clutch and slowly ventured forward.
Jack was certain that the somersaults in his stomach would be enough to waver him over the edge. But that was the point, wasn't it?
With anger washing over him, he begrudgingly drew the crumpled letter from his pocket and bullied himself to read it again. He read through swelling tears and arrived at the part that cascaded a storm of knives through his blood.
...we have decided to implement a workforce reduction and your position has been eliminated.
Jack crushed the letter into a solid fist, clenched his teeth and focused his anger to the road below. Just one step and it would be over. A cyclone of betrayal whirled inside him. He drew back his arm and launched the letter into the frigid wind, but in his tempered action his foot slid and he felt himself tumbling. In a panic he fanned his arms out looking for desperate anchorage. He rolled over, the rocky shelf scrapping up his abdomen, and his fingers landed on a large ornamental tile and he dug his digits in. He jerked to a stop and swayed in the wind. In a single motion he pulled and heaved himself back up onto the stony salvation. He looked back down and palmed his forehead.
"Jesus Jack," he gasped to himself. "You don't know what you are doing."
He took a moment to compose himself and then climbed back inside the window and made himself a drink.

[298 Words]