Jon Whitten

My life was pretty decent. Just the typical white people hassles. Two failed marriages, one my fault, and one that need a tyre-iron wrapped around that selfish bitch just because she stole do

2 months later a former friend sent me the email he'd gotten from her.

In what must have been a spectacular bid for his freedom, he burst out the door when she opened it up with arms akimbo in groceries, skidded round the corner, past two bewildered Otis repair techs, and with one the guys screaming, "Jesu Christo puppy, alto, alto, alto", ringing in his one good ear, my best friend flung himself hard and fast straight down 17 floors. He made no last yelp and never hit the back wall of the shaft.

That's how much he wanted out. At the end of his life it was hard and fast and straight down. And then after what must have seemed an interminable series of forevers, Oatis & Co. reported hearing a kind of thud/splash.

And then the silence.