Chapter 2: After the Fall—Cold Remains

Carter stood there, eyes lowered, his fingers unconsciously curling. He was still waiting for me to come down. He looked almost lost.

But I would never come down again. Cold. Unwelcome. But true.

Some endings sneak up on you.

The old lady next door called out, “Carter, you’re back.”

Her voice was raspy, worn by years of cigarettes and late-night stories. She leaned out her door, peering at him with worried eyes.

Her aged voice was like a broken radio, dragging out the words: “You better go check, honey.”

She clutched her robe tighter, shaking her head with a sadness that seemed to come from somewhere deep. There was a kind of wisdom in her gaze—like she’d seen too many tragedies in this building.

Regret. Deep and old.

She looked at Carter as if she knew, as if she’d seen this kind of heartbreak before. Maybe she had.

He dropped his hand, phone dangling.

His shoulders sagged, the fight draining out of him. He stared at the floor, lost.

“According to the security footage, Mrs. Langley jumped.”

The words landed with the weight of a gavel. The young officer’s voice was steady, but his eyes flickered with discomfort.

The young officer clasped his hands on the table, his expression solemn. “If everything looks good, please sign here.”

He slid the papers across the desk, careful not to look Carter in the eye. The room smelled of stale coffee and disinfectant.

A thick stack of incident reports was spread out in front of Carter. The pages rustled as he flipped through them, black-and-white forms declaring the end of a life. My life.

Black and white. My death, in ink.

My name printed at the top, followed by words like ‘deceased’ and ‘cause of death.’ It didn’t feel real. Not yet.

Carter didn’t spare it a glance, just sat there in silence. He stared at his hands, knuckles white. The clock on the wall ticked louder than before.

The officer swallowed, then went on.

He shifted in his chair, uncomfortable. The silence stretched on, thick and suffocating.

“If that’s all, please sign here. Then we’ll take you to the morgue.”

His tone was gentle, almost apologetic. He handed Carter a pen, waiting.

Carter stayed silent, as if he’d entered another world. In that moment, nothing had anything to do with him.

He seemed far away, his gaze unfocused. Maybe he was replaying the night in his mind, or maybe he was just numb.

The officer was about to give up when Carter spoke.

His voice broke the silence, startling the officer.

“Did it hurt?”

It was the kind of question that hangs in the air, unanswered. A crack in Carter’s armor.

The officer hesitated, searching for words.

He hadn’t expected that question.

He cleared his throat, unsure how much truth to give.

Before he could answer, Carter let out a faint, cold snort. A bitter sound, more self-directed than anything.

He shook his head, lips pressed tight.

He realized it was pointless.

Regret flickered across his face, gone as quickly as it came.

His pale lips moved. “Sorry, forget I asked.” He barely whispered it, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

Then he pulled the report over and signed his name in bold, flamboyant strokes. His signature bled through, angry and final.

He pressed hard. Too hard.

It was as if he wanted to leave a mark that would never fade.

The officer opened the door. “Please follow me.” He stood aside, holding the door open. The hallway was cold and sterile, the kind of place that swallows sound.

Carter stood, his long legs striding forward, back to business. Back to himself.

He straightened his jacket, squared his shoulders. No cracks, no weakness.

In the narrow hallway, the officer spoke awkwardly: “Mr. Langley, I have to remind you, your wife’s body isn’t—intact.”

He avoided Carter’s gaze, his voice trailing off.

His voice grew softer and softer. “She... bounced. After she hit.”

He winced, as if the words themselves hurt to say.

He paused. “Just... be ready.”

He let the words hang, hoping they’d land softly, even though he knew they wouldn’t.

Carter just replied, “Yeah,” and said nothing more. His tone was flat, emotionless.

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t ask any more questions.

The officer glanced at Carter and sighed quietly.

He exhaled, the sound barely audible. There was nothing else to say.

As if saying he’d done all he could.

He stepped aside, letting Carter pass, his eyes lingering with a kind of helplessness.

When they arrived, the police pushed ‘me’ out according to procedure. The gurney wheels squeaked on the linoleum, a jarring sound in the quiet room. The sheet covering my body was too small, leaving one hand exposed.

Carter glanced over indifferently, then went through the motions with the police to transfer my body to the morgue.

He didn’t linger. He signed the paperwork, nodded at the right times, eyes never straying from the floor.