I woke up from the couch with a wet shirt on. I had a bad dream. It was the worst I had and I don’t want to remember any part of it.

Remembering the date today, I went to the kitchen to pour a drink and start cooking for anniversary dinner with Rita.

It is seven o’clock, just in the right time to prepare until she gets home from work. I went to the kitchen feeling tired and unsure. I know that dream was really bad but it’s giving me a weird atmosphere. I opened the fridge to get a drink. Leaning on the counter top facing the bedroom, I started to pour the glass with water and then it hit me.

There’s blood on the floor near the bedroom.

I can’t breathe. I walked to the bedroom to make sure I  am not hallucinating, but the nearer I get there the more unsure I become of myself… more afraid that the dream I had is a reality that cannot be undone.

This is it, I thought. I am standing on the concrete railings of the balcony. Living in the 21th floor, the view overlooking the city always mesmerizes me. The cold breeze hitting my cheeks makes me smile.

“Life is really good”, I whispered in the air like a man whispering to his lover - soft and sweet. I closed my eyes trying to think of a reason on why I should not do this. The more I ponder over the coldness of my existence, the more certainty overwhelms my hesitations about my plan. I lifted my right foot without any reluctance. Making my last smile clothed with pure sadness, my left foot followed doing its last step.