Too High

by Ana Abdullah - February 08, 2019

— Summary: This time she might be climbing too high for her own good. —

She could make the jump. She was only on the twentieth floor. The next building were only a few meters away.

When she was little, her father loved throwing her up high. She believed wings would sprout from her shoulders if she kept reaching for the sky, scrambling up monkey bars, climbing up trees, crawling up scaffolding at construction sites until that they needed that bright orange airbag from the Civil Defence.

Like how they were getting it ready now on the ground.

She’d seen it once when her neighbour attempted to jump to end it all. She had climbed out then to offer him a soda.

“Why jump down when you can climb higher?” She asked. It confused him until she held out her hand. They clambered upwards to the kitchen window above them.

So why stop now when she could jump?

See, easy. Like a flying squirrel.

“Wait, stop!” Unfortunately, so did the constable who had been chasing her.

And the anxious cries from the ground grew.

“You stupid ah?” She yelled, watching him desperately trying to pull himself up the ledge.

He was slipping.

It was a high drop.

For the first time, she understood dread.

Quickly, she grabbed his shoulders. He clung to her, hands scrambling up her shoulders, pulling on her backpack. It tore open, throwing over gold necklaces and diamond bracelets. They glittered like stars in this tensed night.

Those jewellery would’ve looked great on her.

The handcuffs, however, were ugly. And they hurt.

“You could’ve died.” She scolded the constable as they headed down.

“I know you wouldn’t let me fall like last time.”
Ana Says
Ironically, stories of jumping in Singapore are not as amusing as this one.

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