It was a Sunday morning in the squalid neighbourhood where I lived, on the 6th floor of a putrid high-rise, as a student. My girlfriend got up early to go to a rehearsal. As she closed the front door I rolled over, ready to drop back into a deep slumber.
I was woken by my girlfriend who had suddenly returned.
“Someone has just jumped off the roof!” she shouted.
In seconds flat I was dressed and looking over the concrete balcony at a broken figure a hundred meters below. I ran down the stairs and when I got to him my brain supplied me with the most stupid question.
“Are you all right?”
He had fallen half on grass, half on the hard floor,
“Get help,” he mumbled.
I asked him his name. It was Steven, He drifted in and out of consciousness. I put my jacket over him and held his hand. He died.
The police came and the ambulance came and they took Steven away.
Later a policeman came to take a statement from me. He told me that Steven was a student from another flat. His flatmates had said that he was under intense pressure from his family to do well. Steven jumped during the exam season.
Juvenes dum sumus;
Post icundum iuventutem,
Post molestam senectutem
Nos habebit humus.