Ahead of me, at the end of the hall, was a large glass window. The kind that someone might smash through in an action movie such as Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol.
The glass shattered instantly at the impact from my body, much in the same way that a pane of glass would shatter if an object the same size and shape of a human body were to crash through it.
I fell through the air, tumbling senselessly. Up and down ceased to have any meaning to me in regards to which one was which in relation to my position relative to those directions.
The shards of glass fell with me like so much glass-shard-shaped confetti, or like candy from a glass-themed Mexican birthday pinata.
I remembered the way Matt's body had looked after it had tumbled end over end from our apartment window, and I imagined that my body would look very much the same if I were able to see it in 3rd person view, which I of course could not.
I thought maybe it would be for the best if I joined Matt in death. It would be like poetry, it would rhyme.
I was ready, I was prepared. As my body spun towards the ground like a spinning top that is falling towards the ground, I closed my swollen eyes and accepted the finality that approached with rapidity.
I then landed safely on a conveniently placed pile of bird corpses.
Facebook must remain unflagging in its vigilance against titties even in these troubled times of rising fascism.
It needs to consume human tissue! It needs to speak to your manager!
Reason 9: Ongoing mechanical issues with the internal Superman 64 fog machine.
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