It was on an ordinary Wednesday evening that Peter decided to end his life. It had dawned on him that his life was on a downward slope and there was nothing positive to look forward to.
He replied the last of his emails. He made sure all the electrical devices were turned off. He cleaned his flat one last time. He might not have left the world better through his meaningless life, but he was determined to at least leave his patch of it tidy.
He left the door to his flat unlocked. He did not want to trouble others to have to break into the flat after he was gone. Peter had always been obliging. Easy. Immaterial.
He stood on the concrete parapet. He felt the warm humid air stain the last shirt he would ever wear with sweat. And he did the last thing he had to do.