Defenestration

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“The problem is, I can't sleep at night,” Sally said as she dragged herself up the stairs towards the office. To be fair she looked like she hadn't slept for a week. “But then when I pick up a book to read, I am out in seconds, in the café, on the sofa, on a bus; it doesn’t matter where I am, as soon as I open a book, I’m drifting off.”
“Have you tried reading a book in bed?” I asked.
“Of course I have,” Sally has a way of belittling anything you say, “but it doesn't work. That's the one time I don't fall asleep, but I'm too tired to take anything in.”
“Sounds horrible,” I said. I meant it but I was glad we’d reached the office and I could let Sally whinge to someone else. “Catch you later.” I wondered over towards the kettle wondering how a simple, how are you getting on with the latest Jo Nesbo book? had led to a detailed insight into Sally’s sleeping patterns.

The day passed pretty cheerlessly, a grey sky seemed to seep through the windows and hang over the open plan; artificial lighting buzzing through the day. Sally must have told everyone in the office now about her insomnia, almost anything was a cue.

“Did you watch River last night?”  Lucy said.

“Oh I couldn’t keep my eyes open, I’m not sleeping well you know?”

“Did you manage to finish the report?” Andy asked.

“Oh I am so tired, this bloody insomnia,”

“Do you know where the stapler is?” Don said.

“I might do if it weren’t for this damn sleeping disorder.”

It would have been a joy to behold if it weren’t so annoying.

“C’mon, we’ve got to go to the meeting room,” Andy said.

“Why?”

“Don’s retirement.”

“Bollocks,” I didn’t like Don and I hated these retirement events. The chief exec telling lies about a man he barely knew and didn’t give a toss about and then the retiree thanking us all like he’d actually enjoyed the last 5 years and hadn’t been counting off the days like a lovelorn prisoner. But they were compulsory, so the meeting room was packed. We squeezed in at the back. I nudged Andy; Sally, bless her heart, was standing by the window, eyes closed, swaying in the way overly tired people do. Despite being standing, she was losing her battle with sleep.

‘Is she gonna fall over?” I whispered.

“Nah she’s fine,” Andy replied.

“You sure?”

“Ssssh” the woman in front shot us a dirty look.

But she wasn’t fine, she did fall and sadly the window that should have broken the fall was open. We’ll never know when she woke up; was it as soon as she hit the fresh air? Or somewhere between the 7^th floor and the ground? Or when her head hit the cold hard concrete, curing her insomnia for good?