In his message Greg has told her to leave the key under the mat outside his apartment. So like him to think of something so mundane. Stephanie was not mundane. She was... classical, and it showed. From her flowing coral dress to her long black gloves she was elegant in the way old movie stars used to be before generation X made looking like a hobo chic.

Tonight her long blond hair was down and perfect, her makeup and jewelry were just right. Not too showy just enough to accentuate her great beauty. Even the seams on her black stockings were perfectly straight, she knew because she cared enough to make sure.

She opened the door and slipped inside.

"Greg?" She called from the foyer in low whisper, praying he wasn't home.

She called again. "...Greg?" Nothing... probably out on the town with her.

Stephanie walked into the apartment... the place where they had spent so much time together... talking, laughing... making love. The place was so Greg. There was nothing of her here. Now that she could really put it in perspective she knew there never had been. Everything practically screamed his name from the dark paint to the hard surfaces and leather furniture. It was cold and heartless... just like Greg. The apartment was spotless, almost as if no one lived here at all. The cleaning lady had come and gone, but there was never much for her to do anyway. Make the bed, fluff the pillows... he never even used the kitchen with its gleaming chrome and Italian marble counter-tops. What a waste, she frowned.

She took off her heels and held them as she made her way quietly from the large entrance way with its gleaming white tiles into the huge open living room with its dark hardwood flooring. The leather sofa looked incredibly inviting as tired as she was but instead she moved on, up the single step to the landing. The grand piano, Greg's' pride and joy, stood majestically on this pedestal. Its' black lacquer gleamed like a mirror in the light from the large balcony windows. She ran her fingers along the top feeling the silkiness of the highly polished surface. She would never have done that before, God forbid she mar the surface leaving behind some evidence of her existence, that would never do. He couldn't even play the damned thing.

She turned away and then with a wicked smile she turned back and placed her heels unceremoniously on top of the instrument, sat down at the keyboard and tapped out a quick rendition of chopsticks with two fingers.

A small giggle escaped her lips and she looked around sheepishly. It was fun to be bad.

Stephanie left her shoes on the piano and walked to the balcony, opening the double doors wide. A strong warm breeze blew her hair back and whipped her long dress around her legs. It felt wonderful. She stood there for a moment imagining how she looked in the moonlight standing tall and fierce, arms outstretched with the wind in her hair... and she smiled.

She stepped out onto the large balcony and walked up to the railing. The view from the seventy first floor was spectacular. To either side the city lights painted every surface with a warm glow. The windows each looked so inviting and yet mysterious. Who knew what was going on tonight behind those windows...love, sex, murder? Directly in front of her was the Pacific. The salt air in the breeze filled her lungs as she took it all in for the last time. The waves crashed audibly below lapping at the shoreline. It was so late that the beach was empty. She stood watching the white crests roll across the surface of the ocean as it surged forward and fell back like a living thing.

It was time to make the call. She took the cell phone out of her small clutch and dialed Greg's number. When he answered she told him how things were... how she missed him... couldn't go on without him. She cried, she swore, she cursed the day they had met. She would jump... he knew she would. Stephanie ended the call and placed the phone back in her clutch. It would take him some time to get to the apartment. She wondered if he would call the police, but probably not. He would love to be the hero.

She carefully climbed over the railing and stood on the tiny ledge on the other side. Her mind drifted then, back to happier times. She recalled how they met, introduced by friends. Dinner at the Bellota Restaurant, talking long into the night and ending up right here on the balcony. They drank too much wine and he held her as they watched the sunrise. She'd been willing that night, but Greg had been a gentleman and said they should wait. The next few months were a whirlwind of fine restaurants, theatre, the symphony and even the Ballet which she had never enjoyed but with Greg it seemed wonderful. She longed to have those times back again... but they were gone... replaced by the heart stopping pain of catching them together. 

Stephanie had to work late that night but at the last minute plans changed. She picked up a French stick at the bakery, some pâtés de foie gras and a bottle of his favorite wine. She had imagined a romantic picnic right out here on the balcony but instead she found them together. She didn't even know the other womans' name. Didn't want to know... she had simply dropped the bags and wine and ran out the door. He hadn't even come after her, the bastard.

Then she got the text message. A fucking text message! 'He was sorry... it just happened... he hadn't planned it... blah blah blah' Who does that in a text message? She called him but he wouldn't answer. She lost track of how many messages she had left. Then today came the text message that put her over the edge. 

'Sorry it went so wrong, just leave your key under the mat. Greg.'

Was he kidding?

The sound of the door opening inside the apartment broke her reverie.

"Steph..." he sounded nervous, maybe even afraid. Did he think she was going to kill him? She laughed out loud.

"Steph, is that you?" He came slowly to the balcony doors.

"...Hello Greg." She smiled at him from the wrong side of the railing and he took step towards her.

"uh, uh, uh.. stay where you are lover boy..." she taunted him, leaning back and letting go of one hand on the railing.

He stopped in his tracks realizing what was happening.

"Steph! No! Please don't do that. Come back inside... let's talk..."

"I've been calling for weeks Greg... you didn't want to talk then..."

"Come on Steph... I'm sorry... you don't have to do this..." He moved closer to her.

"I said stay back! What the fuck do you care anyway?" Just for fun she swung one leg out into the abyss. Her dress twirled and flapped in the breeze.

"Steph, I do care... I made a mistake! Please..."

"Do you want me back?"

He hesitated.

"No, of course not, you want her... what's her name Greg?"

"It doesn't matter Steph... I just want..."

"You want! What about what I want?

"What do you want Steph? Tell me, I'll do anything you want..."

"...anything?" she smiled.

"Anything... just ask."

"Okay... write my note."

"... your note...I don't..."

"My suicide note, Greg. Write my suicide note."

"But..."

"You said you 'd do anything I want... well that's what I want..." She turned suddenly facing outward, preparing to jump.

"Okay! Stop! Fine, I'll write it...I'll write it..." He went to the desk and pull out a small notepad and a pen. "See, I will... what should I write?"

"hmmmmm... let's keep it simple shall we. How about just 'Goodbye, cruel world."

"Steph... please..."

"Fine... just write... 'Life isn't worth living... I can't go on, I don't want to go on.' that's good enough.

"Come on Steph... its...."

"You said you would do this for me so just do it Greg!" She said utterly calm.

"Okay Steph... fine." He scribbled the words down in the notepad and lifted it to show her. "There, you see, it's done. Now please... come in. I'm not worth it..."

"Do you love her..." She asked quietly.

This time he did not hesitate. "No, I don't love her Steph... it just... happened. I'm so sorry."

"So why didn't you return my calls?" The tears came now. She hated them but they came none-the-less.

"... I was embarrassed and afraid. I knew I fucked everything up, but I still have feelings for you Steph... I swear." He took a small step towards her.

"You do?"

"Of course, Steph..." He inched closer his hand outstretched.

"So... now what?" her voice cracked.

"Whatever you want Steph... if you want we can try again. Just come inside... please." He took another step, he was almost close enough to grab her now.

Stephanie dragged in a ragged breath and wiped her face with the back of her hand, then nodded.

"Okay..." She reached out her hand to him.

Greg took her hand and... she pulled. Where the strength came from she didn't know, but Stephanie pulled hard and Greg came flying forward. He was tall and the railing hit him about four inches below the waist. As he went over the side she saw the look of amazement on his face. He tumbled in the air for a moment and then remembered to scream.

Stephanie pulled herself back over the railing and look down just as he hit the pavement, seventy one floors below, with a dull thud.

She smiled to herself as she picked up her heels from the top of the piano and ensured that the note was in plain sight for the police to find.

Life isn't worth living... I can't go on, I don't want to go on.

As she left she put the key under the mat outside the apartment just as Greg had asked.