At lunch hour one day in August 1996, I took the elevator down from the 20th floor of the downtown office building where I worked. I had to walk something off. I don’t remember now what triggered it, but I had just had an incredibly powerful self-realization, so powerful it was physical, as though two firm hands pulled my shoulders back, holding me upright to show me my future. And I saw that my relationship with the man I had lived with for almost thirteen years was over. I saw it with certainty, with relief, and without regret.

I needed to be held safe in the comforting walls of the skyway.

I knew that walking outside with the crowds in the hot, sunny air would overwhelm me. As I strode from the Plaza VII tower to Dayton’s skyway through to the IDS skyway over Nicollet Mall and beyond, my agitation made me feel as though I were not just one story above the street but hundreds. Adrenaline heightened my senses, making the walk loud, bright, sharp, and quick. People zoomed in close to me, then vectored away. The windows of the skyways glittered and steamed. When I returned to my office, the receptionist said, “You’re so pale. Are you all right?” I was all right, just purified and clear.

Later that afternoon, I learned that a man had jumped from the 30th floor of the IDS building, falling through the glass roof near the skyway concourse onto the courtyard below. It happened right after I walked by, or maybe I saw it and just don’t remember.