JD leaned over the edge of the roof. He watched the people come and go, cars driving slowly over speed bumps, doctors huddling together hoping to conceal the cigarettes dangling from their lips. The wind gently ruffled his hair and made his jacket billow against his arms.
He wondered what it would feel like to have the wind rushing past his ears. He could almost hear the shrill whistle. He closed his eyes and imagined what it would feel like to just fall, to lean forward and let gravity do its thing. He felt his body inch forward.
The crunch of gravel drew his mind back from the brink. Turk slid up beside him and gave him a hearty man-pat on his shoulder. "What'cha doing up here by yourself, my pale companion?"
JD smiled at his friend. "Enjoying the view."
Turk grinned back. "You're so lame," he commented, pulling a wrapped sandwich out of his coat pocket. Unwrapping it, he smiled as he checked its contents. He shoved half of it into his mouth.
Looking back out over the parking lot, Turk managed to comment, "It is kind of nice up here."
JD crossed his arms on the concrete wall and leaned forward. "Yeah, it is."
Cars rushed by. The road was congested with people as they made their way home after a long Thursday doing whatever it was they did.
JD watched the passing objects with interest. He wondered what kind of sound he would make if he was to be struck by a car traveling at forty-eight miles an hour. Would he crunch or would he squish? It was a perplexing question. Perplexing questions demanded answers. He lifted a foot and stepped forward.
A hand slapped against his chest and pushed him back onto the curb. "Whoa there, Newbie," came a gruff voice. "Wait your turn."
JD smiled sheepishly up at Dr. Cox. "Sorry," he murmured. "Guess I wasn't paying attention."
Dr. Cox crossed his arms over his chest as he glared at some object in the distance. "Of course you weren't," he said. "Idiot children like you rarely do."
JD appreciated the concern. He turned his head so the older man couldn't see his smile.
JD stared at the knife in his hand. It was large. Larger than he needed to slice up a loaf of Italian bread. In fact, it was probably larger than the average person needed in their average daily life. Why would someone make a knife like this? He shook his head at the very thought.
He flipped it around and placed the tip against his forearm, just below the bend of his elbow. It would only hurt for a moment, maybe two. He'd been stuck with a scalpel before. Just an initial shock followed by a slow throb that eventually faded away and became nothing more than a distant memory.
He started at the footsteps behind him. The knife slipped from his hands and clattered to the floor. Carla retrieved it for him. "Bambi," she chided, her tone playful. "I give you one simple task and you can't manage it without dropping everything you lay your hands on?"
JD smiled down at her and wiggled a hand in her face. "Butterfingers," he said innocently. Carla slapped the hand away.
"Go get Turk so we can eat," she commanded. JD scurried off to do her bidding.
He couldn't remember where he'd found the gun. Maybe in an alley somewhere? A garbage can on his way to work? Somewhere.
It looked old. There was a layer of rust forming on the handle and across the barrel. JD thumbed back the safety and placed the muzzle against his chest. The metal felt cold on his bare skin.
I wonder if it works, he thought. I wonder if it's even loa-