She is standing on the roof, toeing the edge, hazel eyes looking down and wondering how long its going to take to fall. Is she going to faint as she falls, or will she be awake the whole time? The cigarette pack is empty, the last moments of her twenty years of life burning on her lips, and she lets the empty carton fall. Watches it spiral slowly, slowly, slowly down. She's heavier than that, she knows. She'll fall faster. A stiff December wind catches the pack, blows it back against the building. Short cut blonde hair lifts in the breeze, falling back into a disheveled mess. Between her lips the cigarette sends smoke streaming away into the empty space between buildings.
Suddenly there's someone on the roof with her. The door behind her is closing and a voice says, “Uh, hello?”
She turns from the edge to see a woman about her age, long messy brown hair, looking miffed with her hand still on the door. After a second she answers, “Hi?”
The other woman stands there, unsure of what to do. Then she reaches into her jacket pocket and takes out a pack of cigarettes. “You want one?”
She can feel her heel tilting into empty space as she looks at the other woman. Her breath puffs out as she realizes her own cigarette is gone. When...? Then she runs her hand through her hair in an attempt to straighten it. “Sure, I guess.”
The woman's green eyes look at her, to the edge of the roof where her heel is floating in emptiness, precariously balancing on ice and snow. “Well, you're going to have to come down from there to get one. I have a thing about heights.”
Her heel slips just a fraction and the brunette nearly leaps out of her skin. Another pause, both in a stand off, silently sizing each other up. Then, with a very reluctant sigh, she squats on her toes and holds out a hand. “Compromise?”
Another moment of intense green eyes staring holes into her. Then the brunette steps closer and holds the pack, one cigarette popped out. She flicks a lighter to life and lights it as the blonde leans forward, her balance nearly flawless.
On the exhale, the blonde says, “Name's Violet.”
The brunette takes her own cigarette, stows the pack in her jacket. “BK,” she answers, green eyes never really leaving Violet's footing.
“BeeKay?” Violet repeats curiously. She wobbles for effect, watches the green eyes widen fractionally. Wonders why this woman is up here, where she came from, what her interest is.
“Buzzkill.”
“Your parents sound interesting,” Violet notes.
BK snorts smoke. “Hardly.”
Violet pushes to her feet, turns on her toes like a ballerina, and looks out over the street again. “Thanks for the smoke.”
“You're not...” BK lets it trail off.
“Not what?” Violet asks, looking down, her toes touching the edge, wondering if she can finish the cigarette before she falls.
BK seems to catch her voice and she lets out a chuff of annoyance. “Well, I don't mean to point out the fuckin' obvious here, but you're not really going to jump, are you?”
took a break from writing "this is for the lions" to write... this? instead.