He and Rosa had been living together for a year and it was amazing how complex the structure of intertwined lives could get in twelve short months. Pots and pans, pictures, ornaments, books, extension cables, for fuck’s sake. They’d argued over who’d bought the extension cable by their bed. Not – ridiculously – over who’d spent the money on it, but out of fairness, trying to remember the event because she didn’t suddenly want to realise she’d taken something she had no right to. Bitch. Even at the fucking end she couldn’t set him free by being selfish and unjust. She was a good person. How annoying was that? She was such a good person that the fault, as ever, lay with him. His moods, his needs, his fractured, ruptured psyche.

A passing car issued a long beep and someone shouted from a window. The wind swallowed the words, which pleased him. There were times when the rest of the human race just had to butt out and the sixty seconds prior to committing suicide was one of them. He took another upwards step, jolting with the sudden clarity of the memory of buying the extension cable for Rosa when he’d bought her a new hairdryer. It had been obvious the cable would never reach the dressing table and around the back, so he’d added it to the Christmas list as a functional extra.

‘Oh, for Christ’s sake,’ he muttered. It was still plugged into the wall. A stupid remnant of a good stretch when he’d been able to be thoughtful, living outside the trappings of his own mind for four months without interruption. Bliss. For a second he considered phoning Rosa to remind her of the extension cord’s history. She could reclaim it when the flat was emptied out. Only then he’d have to explain where he was, and what he was doing, and she might talk him out of it. Rosa would be the only person who could. Too late, he thought. It was just an extension cable, after all. His snake of a brain had just chosen the moment to try to turn it into a lifeline instead.

Other cars beeped their horns as he took the final step up and over the railing. He stood, wobbling in the fierce breeze. Vehicles halted, forming an unofficial barrier. Doors slammed. Stephen turned around slowly. An arc of people had formed several metres away from him. He wasn’t sure if the distance was because they thought he might grab one of them and take them with him, or for fear that approaching closer might make him jump all the sooner.

In the end, one man pushed between two onlookers, hands in his pockets, casual as you like, and wandered over to stand below his position on the fencing.

‘Are you okay for me to stand here and talk to you?’ he asked.