by Nathan Nicolau
I thought she had wings.
When she jumped, I expected them to jut out of her body in their full glory, like a mother bird about to hug her young. She plummeted ten stories onto the grey concrete instead. Her body flew down rapidly, almost forcefully, and was free-falling for only a few seconds. Had I blinked, I would have missed her flight. The scene looked like a series of projected photos, with the first photo showing her standing on the roof and then disappearing in the second. The third photo would be my blank face watching the scene unfold from a train stop not too far away. Continue reading
Hawaii Pacific Review 