On the rooftop, 25 stories high, I sat alone watching the sunrise. The dead silence of the dawn, the cold winter breeze whispering in my ears, and a hint of the yellow sun against the dark grey background, as if someone had tried to paint their soul and the sky was their canvas. These were the things that made me feel alive. Truth be told, I needed to feel alive. It has been a while since I did.
I should get moving before the cleaning crew arrives.
*JUMPS*
THE END!
NOTE///
This was cruel humour, DO NOT JUMP.
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Rooftop Muse
Short StoryA micro-fiction about feeling alive. Not more than 100 words.
