“When you get there, make sure you ask the neighbors if this guy has shown any violent tendencies in the past,” Scott ordered.

“Sure thing,” nodded the tall reporter from the corner of the news room, his back against the cool window that looked out over the street below.

“Okay,” Scott turned to the board. “Are we missing anything? We’ve got Frank on the double homicide, Jessica on the fire to the north, Caleb on the fire to the east, Natalie on the homeless camp… and…”

Scott drifted off. His hand, pointing at the items on the board, slowly came down. A smile pulled at his cheek.

“Is there something else?” Jessica asked.

Scott’s whole figure changed. He felt more relaxed than he had since… he couldn’t remember when.

“No, I…” he muttered. “I just remembered something.”

“What’s up?” Frank asked from the corner.

Scott’s eyes were looking past the board. It didn’t matter anymore. He turned and strolled over to the line of windows, enjoying the cool air blowing in from the open one in front of him. He put his hands on the windowsill and peered down.

“You know… it’s not so bad,” he observed. How could he have worried before?

“What’s going on, Scott?” Natalie asked with a laugh.

Scott suddenly remembered the people there with him. He turned briefly to look at them, then back to the pedestrians and cars moving around five stories below him. A gentle breeze was just strong enough to flutter the flag hanging on the flagpole a few yards down the building.

“I actually used to go to church,” he explained. “As a kid. I hadn’t thought about it in a while.”

The reporters looked at each other with confused smiles.

“The Bible… it’s got some good stuff in it.”

He didn’t register what they said next. Ecclesiastes. The book of Ecclesiastes.

The people behind him were talking louder to get his attention. One tried to grab him, but he brushed them off and stepped away. Ecclesiastes… no one wanted to talk about that one. But he understood it. No one else seemed to get it.

He heard a scream, but wasn’t sure where it came from. Or why anyone would bother, anyway?

“Meaningless.” That was the word. The verse he had memorized. “Meaningless! Meaningless!”

The other kids in his youth group — the whole church, really — were scared to really talk about it. They kept trying to give it a positive spin, not willing to really take it in. It didn’t have to be scary. It was beautiful.

The people below him. Their outfits. Their pets that they were walking. The cars they were driving. The imperfect sidewalk, with its cracks and ancient gum.

It rose up to meet him. It was beautiful.