On one of the parapet walls on the rooftop of a deserted skyscraper stood a middle aged man. He seemed to have one of those faces with a permanent frown, huge dark circles and highly wrinkled cheeks. He held a clear green bottle of beer in one hand and an empty one in another. I had an urge to immediately rush his way but I had known better. I knew for a reason that, that parapet wall gave me an electrifying sort of thrill, as though challenging me to jump. What was disturbing though, was how although I hate to admit, I liked the feeling. I feared liking the feeling, craving it and giving in to it too. But people like this man kept coming here on this infamous rooftop occasionally, luring me towards those awaiting walls. Within the wink of an eye, his right leg was suspended beyond the parapet over nothingness...unless of course, you count the ground fifty floors below. This time I couldn't help but sprint towards him. I regrett...
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