text: I didn't think he would do it. I looked into his eyes, and he looked back with a sort of acceptance. he was holding himself up over the edge. As the hand opened and he began to fell I saw a moment where he mouthed my name, and his eyes conveyed something to me. He fell, and he fell. At one point he would die, but neither him nor me new when. This was the perfect death for him. Dropped into a pit of his deepest passion. His death put me in a deep depression. Everyone expected it of me when they heard what had happened. But they did not expect the actions I would take and what I would achieve out of my downward spiral. Some might say that I tryed to follow him in his descent. Only I knew what I had seen in his eyes that day. With my arms over my head I sat by a table. Nowhere special. noone special. People have allways passed by, some with more significance than others, like passing anecdotes of varying importance. At first I wished for someone to pull me out and free me, but as I sat there by that table, with my arms covering me from the blandness of my world I felt nothing. I felt so little that I was at first shocked by my apathy, but I learnt to surpress that as well. In the bag next to me I had a weapon. It was waiting for me, longing for my hand to grip at it, to caress it. I let my arm fall towards the bag. I kept my eyes closed. I breathed slowly. I reached down and pulled it out. With my eyes shut I pushed the table away. I began to dance. my fingers grasped hard around my weapon, and my moves were as random and as gracefull as the feelings I had repressed. I counted my steps. The hallway was familiar to me, yet I was not certain of where I was going. I never did know anything, i just knew what I didn't feel and what was denied to me. I would grasp it. I would take this one chance. She never saw me as that kind of person. at night when the wind blew and we heard the wild animals in the distance, and the cool breeze of the night welcomed us I allways saw in her eyes and her soul that she was content, and I knew that was her failure. Or was It mine? It depends on what you see as important in life. "What are you thinking?" She would ask me. This question again. I would smile, and say "you" or something similar. I loved her. I tried to love her. I stuck with her for she was what I needed. I was what she needed. We had our different reasons, but we were allways on the same path. the cold began to take us. Yet she continued to smile. As she fell asleep I went inside. I saw our son. He lay on the sofa, sleeping silently with not a worry on his face. I cried that night. Whenever I saw her smile, his kindness or the happyness they expressed i felt a deep sadness. But I did not let it show. It would only give away what would happen. One night the old man visited us. I saw that same look in his eyes. the one he gave me before. The one I allways saw. I held my weapon again that night and I danced with what I hid.