From up here, Tim could see everything.
He could see the statue in the square. The one with the 19th century-clad gentleman holding a none-to-pleased baby and a countenance that made you question the man's intentions. He could see the stop light on the bridge over the highway that bisected the town into North and South. He could see the surprisingly well-maintained gazebo and the patch of green grass it sat upon, freckled with dandelions. Those dandelions always reminded him of Lisa. It wasn't that they were reminiscent of the small splash of freckles across her cheeks and nose. Or that she used to beg him to save some of the pesky dandelions in his own yard any time he mowed. Actually, Tim didn't know what it was about those things that reminded him of Lisa, but it wasn't either of those two thoughts.
Besides, it didn't matter anymore.
As Tim looked down and watched the people crossing the street, walking up the sidewalk head down or just sitting on a park bench, he laughed. He actually laughed! Here he was, about to commit to the final act of quitting, "The Big Quit" as he had affectionately dubbed it weeks ago, and he was snickering. The one reason - the ONLY reason - he wished he was going to be around to witness his own death was to take in the startled reactions of whoever happened to be in the vicinity when his body lay awkwardly twisted on the cement. But that was pretty much the definition of a catch-22, wasn't it?
As he gazed down onto the street, Tim felt a twinge of disappointment at how few people were actually out and about. He was hoping for a bigger crowd. Oh well. Here goes.
With that final thought, Tim leapt off the 15-story tower. Never afraid of heights, he enjoyed the fall. Even spread his arms like a glider, embracing the acceleration of gravity and cold air rushing against his face, whipping through his clothing.
As his descent quickened, his excitement spiked. This was it. This was really it!
And then in the moment before his carefree body hit the pavement, in the very last instant before his head assumed all the form and function of a Gallaghered watermelon, one thought popped into is head, filling his doomed body with regret for the very first time.
"Shit," he thought. "I forgot to turn off the oven."
Raindrops Keen Fallin' On My Head, Baked Potato
8 years ago