By inhaleandvomit 0 Comments
they fell holding hands but the wind pushed their fingers apart, and all you could hear from the first floor to the seventh was the sound of flapping clothes and rushing weight. it was orchestrated gravity. i never heard them cry out. i was living with my parents on the third floor those days. mama had told me to water the plants on the balcony. she had left them out there for a couple of days because the weatherman promised rain, but two days passed hot and dry and her begonias were starting to look a bit depressed. i was twelve years old and pouring from a mug of water diligently when i saw them fall. they rushed right past me and i figured that the russian couple from upstairs got into a fight again and maybe she threw all his clothes right out the window like she did last week. but then the whole building heard them hit ground. seven floors wasn’t so high, but the impact sounded like a gunshot, and the blood spray washed the wall. they fell maybe a few feet away from each other, but the boy hadn’t died. i know this because i saw him, long after an ambulance had been called and the street started screaming, i saw his broken arm with those broken fingers reach toward hers just a bit. and then the sirens came and body bags swallowed them and by the time yellow tape was set up, the sun had started to set. we moved the plants back in the house, but it rained the next day.