" The cop busted through the door and I dove out the window and
into the cold night air. It was 4am, mid-December, and all I was
wearing was my underwear. A thin swirl of snow circled the ground,
three floors below.
With his gun in one hand, the cop grabbed my leg as soon as I
was out the window. He held me in place, and I stood perpendicular
to the outside wall of the building. I tried to kick off the wall
with the foot that was free, but I kicked the cops hand instead,
and he dropped his gun and loosened his grip on my leg.
I pulled free and flew away, and as I floated in the air, time
played a cruel trick on me. It let me fall so slow that I had
plenty of time to think how bad it was going to hurt when I
landed.
I calmly wondered if I would be alive once I hit the ground. I
was comforted by the thought, that; if I wasn't, I would have made
good my escape. The cops would certainly have me then; but, at
least I would be free.
It felt good, sailing through that black void, expecting what
was to come. Because, in that period of time, I was free ... I was
as free as a bird in captivity."
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