Starting the Words

The world swam for a moment as he got his moved and steadied himself in a sitting position. He was in a prison cell. The past few hours appeared in his head like scenes from a bad film. Flashes of the man falling from the window. The scene below, the rain falling in the broken window. He had a memory, vague and fleeting of the ceiling tiles and the noise of the door being thrown open. Several shouts at him but the words hadn’t meant much. He couldn’t move. Then a man in a white jumpsuit helping him out of his suit. He looked at his hands. There were cuts from the glass underneath the dressings. What had happened? Why had he done such a thing? He hadn’t even thought he was capable of such a deed but here he was in a cell someplace in Dublin City knowing that he would probably be spending the rest of his life in a room similar to this one. He began to cry.