Letters From The Ledge by Lynda Meyers

school night.”
    “You seem to find that girl just as interesting as the boy on the ledge. I would think it’d be the other way around.”
    “I only noticed him because of her. She sits in that window looking lost and afraid and then spends a lot of time writing about it. At least, it looks like writing from here.” She smiled up at him. “Sometimes I make up my own parts of the story.”
    Nate looked down his chin at her. “So that’s what you do out here–spy on other people and try to imagine what they’re doing?”
    Paige slapped his chest playfully, the ribbing of his jacket sleeve making a muffled thud from her hand inside it. “It’s not spying. It’s people watching. There’s a difference.”
    He tipped her chin up. “At least you’re smiling.” There were those eyes again. He couldn’t help himself. He leaned his head down and kissed her. Her lips were soft, but still guarded. He pulled away and looked back up at bird boy, attempting to redirect his thoughts.
    She settled back onto her perch on his chest. “She seems to be watching him. He seems to think he’s invisible. At least, that’s my read.”
    He weighed the possibility of telling her about meeting Brendan, but she still seemed too fragile. “Do you think he wants to jump?”
    “I don’t think anyone wants to jump.” Paige was silent for a while, until the rest of her answer came whispering out. “I think he wants to be free.”
    Nate jerked his chin down and looked over the top of Paige’s head. She looked so small, swimming in his jacket like that. The thought that she might have considered suicide had never even been a blip on his radar screen, and it caught him off guard.
    Paige’s gaze returned to the girl’s window, now vacant. “I guess she’s gone to bed.”
    She was talking more, starting to make sense. He wanted to keep drawing her out. “Did you journal when you were that age?”
    “For a while, when my parents were going through their divorce.”
    “What happened?”
    Her eyes took on a sarcastic glint. “They-got-divorced.”
    “I know that part, silly. I’m talking about the journaling.”
    “What makes you so interested?”
    “Can’t a guy be curious?”
    “I don’t remember. I headed off to college and…well, I just didn’t. I was too busy studying and partying and trying to work part-time to pay for it all. I didn’t have time for foolish childhood pursuits.”
    “Last time I looked, journaling was hardly a foolish childhood pursuit.”
    “Whatever.”
    Sometimes her shields went up so fast he got left behind.
    “How about you Mr. Sensitive? Did you journal?”
    Nate watched to see what her reaction would be. “Still do.”
    Her momentary shock was followed by embarrassment. “You’re kidding! When?”
    “Usually when I’m on the subway, or having lunch, sometimes in my office, but generally whenever I’m people watching. We have that in common, you know.”
    Paige registered that thought and sat up, genuinely surprised. “Really? I would have never guessed that about you. How come you never told me about that?”
    “Journaling is a pretty personal thing.” Nate shrugged. “I guess it just never came up.”
    She elbowed him in the ribs playfully. “So what kinds of things do you journal while you’re people watching ?”
    He looked at her, stone-faced. “Mostly just poetry these days.”
    “Poetry…” She was sitting there shaking her head in genuine disbelief. “How could I not have known this about you?”
    Nate just smirked and shrugged his shoulders again.
    “How long have you been writing poetry?”
    “About as long as I’ve known you.” He searched her eyes, adding to the truth, and watched the shields drop, revealing eyes that were so soft, he could glimpse the part of her that could still be surprised by tenderness. It filled him with hope, like an unexpected gift.
    “Have you ever written a poem about me?”
    Nate shifted his position. “It’s late. Let’s go in.