Weeks ago, he had been at the company barbecue in Maui. With the backdrop of the nearest volcano - a hump of rocky slides covered lush, green trees and brown, ancient ash, he and his friends had discussed topics ranging from work, to school days, to basic science and popular culture. He had a beer sweating in his hand in a plastic cup and a burger dripping mustard on his lap on a plate. He took in the day in the shade of the pool house as a plume of cigar smoke folded itself neatly into his nostrils.
Now, though, he was in the air and moving. He was as far from that day in Maui as he could ever be and there was a kind of calm in that fact. He wasn't in the world, but a man moving through it, through the air in the night towards the ground and the cars and the dumpsters. He was weightless.
He took off his watch and threw it into the night.
His life was over.