[This is a work in progress.]
1997, July 15th, 7pm
I get to the tower just a minute or two after it happens: his body is lying on the ground, just to the side of the small fountain that occupies the circular driveway.
His eyes are closed and it almost looks like he's asleep.
People love taking naps in pools of blood, right?
I pause time and walk around the body, weave my way between very realistic-looking statues of businessmen and women.
His hair is disheveled, and of course there's all the blood, but that's about it, nothing else looks strange or out of place.
He might as well be sleeping.
I look up and my eyes - slowly - follow the parallel lines of the building up, stopping ever so briefly at each floor, counting the stories consciously.
The top of the building is occupied by a penthouse, and so far I've counted about thirty-five stories.
I walk toward the building, enter the statue-menagerie through an open door.
The lobby is packed with a bunch of corporate suits, all streaming out to take in the sight.