Skydiving

With woolly eyes she bit her nails. Too far down. Small arcs of flesh exposed too tender to withstand the world. The stomp of worn boots as they shimmy over the slick of her walk. A library of diagnoses under her pillow.

One more.

One more.

One more drink.

And then I'll be able to sleep.

Or at least wake up as if I had.

I pull on that familiar string. The parachute opens, but falling was so much better than this.

So far away. watching as it all rushes closer.