Hotel High Dive

  

You are staying at 5-star hotel with a room that is located some hundred or more stories above ground. While gazing out from your view, you take notice of a large in-ground swimming pool some hundred or more stories below.
Your room also provides access to a walkway which leads to the rooftop where one can stand over the edge. You look straight down and can see the swimming pool. This lookout is only protected by a 3 foot metal pipe fence (painted gray) that is so low that it would be very easy to simply trip over and fall to one's death. And there's a tragic history behind this lookout. Some kid once had the bright idea of diving off the hundred story lookout, only to dive to his death because the pool lacked sufficient depth, and the impact crushed his bones.
To illustrate this and maybe get a feel for what the kid was thinking, maybe you could support your phone upright and video yourself pretending to jump off the edge and dive into the pool. You even rehearse this a couple of times and realize just how dangerous this seemingly harmless stunt would actually be.
“Nah, I changed my mind. It's not a good idea.” you tell an imaginary person.
“Oh, come on! What are you chicken?”
“Today I am...”
This imaginary person vanishes from your mind and the rooftop so that you are, once again, alone. Still mesmerized by the dizzying view and the tragic history, you lay on the roof near the edge of the lookout and push the lens of your phone's camera far enough off to get a dizzying shot of the swimming pool. From this vantage point, you can see that the swimming pool is nowhere near dropping range from that height. The kid who attempted the high dive must have had poor judgment. The pool is actually some distance away from the drop off.
***
Later in the evening, you lay awake in bed while fearing that you might sleepwalk and return to the rooftop where you might act out the fatal stunt that led to the kid's death. It's going to be a long night.
And the night stretches on, each tick of the clock echoing in the silence of the hotel room. The sheets suffocate you as they wrap around you, and the soft hum of the air conditioning does little to drown out the haunting image of the rooftop and the pool below. The memory of the day's events play like a film reel, each frame more vivid than the last.
No matter what you do, you cannot shake off the adrenaline that had surged through your veins while perched at the edge, the world sprawling out beneath you. The city lights twinkled like stars, but all you could think about was the dark shadow of the past—a kid with poor judgment who had dared to take that leap, only to meet a tragic fate. The very thought sends chills down your spine.
Your imaginary companion’s teasing voice echoes in your mind, “Today I am…”—you had meant it, though. You were scared. Not just of the height, but of the reckless abandon that could pull you into the void. It was as if the rooftop had a magnetic pull, beckoning you to tempt fate.
Deep breaths; you try to calm yourself, but the creeping anxiety claws at your thoughts like a restless spirit. What if you did sleepwalk? What if the allure of that edge became too intoxicating, too irresistible? The fear of the unknown gnaws at you, and you can almost feel the cool metal of the pipe fence pressing against your skin.
You turn over, trying to find comfort with the fact that you are inside and safe in bed, but the reassurance seems so shallow. The golden fixtures and the intricate patterns on the walls only serve as a stark contrast to the dread that fills your chest. You glance at the bedside table, your phone glimmering in the dim light. The photos from earlier sit there, the captured moments of daring and danger.
With a shudder, you pick up the device, scrolling through the images. There it was—the one where you had leaned over the edge, your body suspended between the thrill of the moment and the fatal consequences that could ensue. The dizzying angle made your heart race, a reminder of how close you had come to the edge, both literally and figuratively.
The clock ticks on, and with each passing minute, the weight of your thoughts grow heavier. You imagine what it would be like to be that kid, feeling invincible one moment, and then... nothing... just silence. It's impossible to shake the notion that the rooftop is a threshold—not just between floors, but between life and death.
You rise from the bed, heart pounding, while pacing the room. The plush carpet feels luxurious under your feet, but it cannot dispel the chill that settles in your bones. You approach the window, pulling back the heavy drapes to reveal the vast night sky. The city sprawls below, alive and vibrant, unaware of your inner turmoil.
As you gaze out, the view shifts from beautiful to surreal. The swimming pool glimmers in the distance, a sapphire jewel under the moonlight, but it feels like a siren’s call. You can still hear your imaginary friend’s laughter, the thrill of the idea, and yet the weight of the tragedy hanging heavily in the air.
“No,” you whisper to yourself, shaking your head. “I won’t let it pull me under.”
Determined, you return to the bed, forcing yourself to lie back down. You close your eyes tightly, envisioning the pool not as a destination, but as a reminder of the fragility of life. The night stretches on, but you cling to the hope that dawn will bring clarity, that the morning sun will wash away the shadows that dance in your mind.
As you finally drift into a restless sleep, the last thought that flickers through your consciousness is a vow—a promise to never let fear dictate your choices, to embrace life fully, but always with caution. Tomorrow, you will step away from the edge, and perhaps, someday, you would find the courage to dive deep into the waters of life without looking back.