The Fall

The fall was slow and had a silent grace to it. The view of the world around, above and below, changed every moment. Gravity was at work as true as ever. What comes must go... A window that was a couple of feet below a moment ago got left behind above. A crow sitting on a ledge watched, then flapped away. Further down, an AC continued to drip water on to the asphalt. People working inside the cooled offices worked as honestly as their paycheques allowed them to. The fungus on the damp walls grew without help. A girl in the balcony of a neighbouring highrise played with her dolls. The dry summer air stood where it was. Life went on. The fall continued. Nobody bothered. And then, contact was made. Hard, merciless concrete broke the fall. The fall that had been slow and had a silent grace to it.
The feather lay peacefully on the road.

(That was Strike Three. If I haven't been able to prove what I set out to, I'm only too glad for it! AbNQ)