The man in the next cubicle spoke to me today. It‘s odd, we’d worked together years, but never spoke.
“There’s more than this,” he pleaded desperately, “surely! I can’t stay in this office with the world out there to see, I need to fly!”
He then went to the window, threw a chair through it, and jumped.
Forty stories, and he leapt like it was nothing.
Perhaps he was mad, and fell to his death.
Perhaps he was right, and flew to freedom. I’ll never know, I didn’t follow to look.
I stayed at my desk, and continued my work.