It seems easy enough, to rush out the open doors, jump from one blue warning track to another, off the side and that would be that. When you can't see how far the fall is it could be anything. Inside I know the way is not long down, the tracks are there, maybe I would be electrocuted or scrape my knees and otherwise be fine. Or a train would come. Knowing this city though.
For a moment the doors are open and the choice is mine. The ground is wet with recent rain, maybe I wouldn't be as graceful as I am in my head. Bounding, Step One, Step Two, flying into the air like a gazelle (whenever people talk about grace they talk about gazelles). The man who would be king, falling and singing, wondering how many people were watching him. I could pick a better time of day.
It seems easy enough because it is easy enough, there's no challenge, nothing to lose, not really, save what you've already given up. All it is is the night air, hanging moisture, the thrill and exploitation of it all. What a sight to behold, what a wondrous thing, what a wide open door begging to be used. People only walk through it. They only walk.
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