- 5 -

Today I decided to go up to the garden. I thought that some fresh air and a view of the horizon would clear my head. The strong winds at this height would almost literally blow my paranoid stresses away. The stairs in the narrow staircase were covered in dust.

Following my own logic of only vacuuming the parts of the apartment I use, it looked like I hadn't been up to the roof in months. Funny, because I specifically bought this place for the unique mix of outdoor living and its elevation above street level.

It took me a few minutes to work the lock. There was a slight knack to sliding the deadbolt on the solid inner door. Pausing I distracted myself wondering why such a heavily secured door was required this far above street level.

The bolt gave and the door swung out into the dusty airlock. Without this little walled in recess and extra door just opening the door could blow a person off their feet and the apartment would lose all warmth with a single gust of wind.

The first door swung closed as I unbolted the door that led out into the elements. As the bolt gave and I turned the handle, I thought that I must have locked it again by accident. Confirming to myself that the door was indeed unlocked, I threw my shoulder into it.

The door only budged, and I imagined a dead or unconscious body lying against the other side. Impossible of course, unless a stray skydiver had been thrown off course and landed badly. Two more shoves, each throwing up handfuls of dust that were whipped straight into my eyes by the fierce twentieth story winds. I squeezed through the doorway into the freezing dim evening above the city.

Of course there was no body, just dirt, leaves, plastic bags, a KFC family bucket, a flattened fedora and various pieces of organic and manmade debris. It looked like a neglected street drain days after a downpour.

It was at this point that I panicked. A combination of the air, the open sky, the distance to the horizon and no walls was all too much for me. I didn’t even take my hand off the door handle before I squeezed back through the doorway, convincing myself that I needed to dress more appropriately and come up in the full light of day.

Sitting in silence in my room, waiting for my heart rate to normalise, I went over the previous ten minutes in my mind. The dust on the stairs and the detritus against the door were more than a just few months worth. It must have been years.

The only enticing part of the whole ordeal was the taste of the air. It was fresher than I remembered. It reminded me of drinking from a mountain stream after hiking with a warm stale canteen of water for days. If nothing else I will make myself go back up for some of that air.

It was a lot quieter than I remember too.