A Fine Line

Misty looks out over the edge. The cars scurry about far below like cockroaches infesting the filthy city.

“You could end it all right now, you know. Just step out into the void. The wind rushing past you as you fall, and then—”

“Then?” Misty asks.

“Splat.”

“When did you turn suicidal?” Misty asks the omnipresent voice in her head. “I knew you were homicidal, but not suicidal.”

“It’s a fine line between the two,” the voice says, “Is there really a difference?”

Misty ponders a moment, “Thoughts of suicide would indicate latent depression.”

“And talking to yourself doesn’t?”

“Good point.”