It�s a dark, gloomy November afternoon. Standing atop his windy apartment rooftop, Bill is looking over the ledge at the ground 30 stories below. Thoughts of jumping are racing through his head. He steps up onto the ledge, keeping his might gaze locked onto the walkway of doom. The wind picks his hat off his head, and carries it away. He just stands there, just staring, almost as if wondering what to do next. Bill closes his eyes, and takes one very small step. Then, he takes another, and another. Suddenly a strong gust of wind blows him off balance. He begins to flail his arms wildly, but it�s no use. Bill falls anyway.
Bill opens his eyes, and looks around for a moment. He then realizes that he is still safe and sound on the roof. He stands up, brushes himself off, and walks into the nearby stairwell. When he gets to his apartment, Bill finds a notice of late rent stapled to his door. He snatches the paper down, and crumples it up. As Bill walks in, he throws the paper into an already overflowing wastebasket.
Bill sits on his couch, and loosens his tie. He then leans forward and opens up an old copy of the classifieds. He proceeds to cross out job listing after job listing. �Not one single job left in the city,� Bill says angrily as he rips the classifieds into pieces, �Not even as a street sweeper.� He stands up, grabs his table, and flips it over. Still angry, Bill walks into the bathroom. He turns the faucet on and splashes some water on his face. He looks at his reflection in the mirror.
He can still remember the conversation he had with his boss only a few weeks before. �Bill, could you step into my office please,� his boss said. �Sure,� he replied. Bill walked into his office and sat down. �How long have you been working here,� his boss asked. �About 20 years,� Bill replied, �Is something wrong?� His boss started, �I�m sure you�ve heard the rumors floating around here since the crash.� �Yeah, everyone is talking about the brokerage going under,� Bill said jokingly. �They�re right Bill.� �What? You�re kidding right?� �I wish I were. The word came from higher up. I thought you should be the first to know. I�m sorry Bill.� �You�re sorry, you�re sorry. Yeah, I�m out of a job, but it�s ok, because you are sorry.� �What do you want me to do Bill? I�m out to; the whole company is going under. The CEO is giving his farewell speech in an hour.� �Have a nice life,� Bill said as he walked out of his office.
Still staring in the mirror, Bill starts to cry. He punches the mirror, making the glass shatter. He walks over to the door and slams it. He begins to beat on the door, violently punching and kicking it. Bill then turns around and leans up against the door. He slowly slides down the door, until he is sitting on the floor. He wraps his arms around his knees, and buries his face in between them. He sits there crying, bathing in his tears of self-loathing. He jumps up, and grabs his razor from the counter top. He brings it to his wrist. His hand begins to shake. Bill starts to talk to himself, �This is it. All you have to do is cut.� His hand begins to shake. �Come on, do it,� he continued. Aggravated, Bill stands up and throws the razor across the room. �You�re pathetic,� he says to himself. �You can�t even kill yourself.�
He opens the door to the bathroom and walks out, slamming the door behind him. He goes to the closet to get his revolver, but there aren�t any bullets. He couldn�t afford to buy any. He throws the gun on the floor, and look for something else, but fails. There is nothing to use. Extremely angry and annoyed, Bill begins to punch himself. He hits himself in his stomach, and then his face. He continues until he is totally exhausted, and collapses on the floor.
After an hour of lying there motionless, Bill decides to go out. He slowly stands up, and walks over to the closet. He reaches in and pulls out his duster. Bill walks out of his apartment, but doesn�t bother closing the door behind him. He goes down the stairs slowly, taking them one at a time. When he gets outside, Bill looks around and sees the diner across the street. Then he rummages through his pockets for some loose change. When he pulls his hands out he finds that he has 50 cents. �That should get me a couple of cups of coffee,� he said to himself.
He travels across the sidewalk, and carelessly steps out into the road. There is a bus coming. The driver honks the horn and slams on the brakes. Bill looks up to see the big metallic messenger of death speeding toward him. Just as the bus is about to hit him, a man runs into the road and pushes him out of the way.
Bill stumbles up onto the sidewalk in front of the diner. The bus comes to a screeching halt, and the driver gets off and runs over to Bill. He helped him to his feet and asked him if he was ok. �Yeah I�m fine. Who pushed me? What happened to them,� Bill asked. �Are you sure you�re ok,� the driver asked. �Yeah, why?� �Nobody pushed you� �Someone ran into the street and pushed me out of the way,� Bill said. �Whatever you say buddy,� the driver replied as he walked back to the bus.
Bill looks around, but there was no one except for people passing by. When the bus pulls away, he walked into the road, but finds no evidence of anyone helping him. Confused, Bill smiles, and walk into the diner. He orders a cup of coffee and slowly drinks it down. It�s the best cup of coffee that he has ever had. It�s the first cup of coffee in his new life.