Tying a noose is harder than you thought, so you just coil the rope around his neck like thread on a spindle. He cracks a smile--a bright contrast to the deep blackness of the holes in his skull. "This is forever. This is all there is." He's touching himself. You cinch the rope. His ribs crack as you shove him over the railing. His spine cracks next. You watch the rope swing, alight in the flickering fluorescent un-color of disease. When the rope goes still, you go downstairs and open the door.