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The roof is high, propped up in the air by sturdy support beams. While the support beams that held the building were sturdy, the fence that guarded the roof was flimsy, easily cut.The breeze runs through his hair and tugs at his loose clothing. It feels nice, freeing in a way.Free.What did it mean to be free?Did it mean to simply be able to do what he wanted whenever?Or did it mean to have no responsibilities and hold no accountability for his actions?Whatever it meant to be free no longer mattered to him, no longer something he had to worry about.Looking over the edge of the building he surveys the ground below.Empty is the word that first comes to mind.Empty would no longer be something the scenery below had to worry about, as in the near future it would be filled.Looking up to the sky he looks at the clouds, takes note of their odd shapes and conjures stories for each one in his head.The breeze slows to a stop and everything is still for a moment.The sun stares down at him and waits.The sky is beautiful, a light blue with swirls of pink and purple appearing on the bottom of the skyline.The breeze picks up, and for a second he thinks he's flying up and toward the clouds, maybe in those clouds he would finally be happy and free.Free.Happy.The thought of this spurs him on and he slips out of his shoes.The sun no longer waits.He plummets head first towards the cracked gray cement that lay below.The wind trails against his body, he can feel and hear it.He's flying.He maneuvers his body so he's looking at the sky in all its glory.To his dismay the clouds are only growing distant.He's no longer at peace, for how could he be when freedom and happiness are escaping his grasp as he falls?He thinks of his mother and her touch and voice. The way she was always so very gentle. She was soft.Soft like a cloud.And he was never going to see her again.He was falling.She was not.She was the clouds in the sky, and he was the fool who thought he could fly.Oh what a fool.If only he referred to his brain over his heart, if only he kept his feet rooted to the ground.If he did he would have been planted in his mothers arms.If only he did not listen to the words of those who had nothing to say but misery and hate.Those who spoke of nothing but distaste, their words growing in effect like the wind.The wind called to him and he listened to what it had to say and took it to heart.The pavement was approaching fast now.He walked to the building while listening to the upbeat beats his phone played, the thought of peace and relief playing in his mind.The beating of his heart stopped with the feeling of sorrow and anticipation.He came with no regrets.He left with many.