It’s amazing how an instant can feel like a lifetime. They do this every year, though, and you’d think I’d be used to it by now. For as long as I can remember, I’ve taken this journey down, down, down, with few changes: the sky is still blue, the concrete is still grey, the woman who dropped me still has yellow hair, though its color has grown a bit muted. But the faces, I thought, those change each time; I’ve never seen the same one twice.

Still, the event tends to begin the same way. We were pretty high up, and the wind typically whipped around. Today, though, the wind remained slow, as if it had gone off to take a nap. A high ledge stood between them and my own fate; how lucky for them to have proper protection. They always separate into two groups once they place bets. They crowd together in uncontrolled anticipation, hurling friendly competitive jibes to the other side.

“You’re all going to be so embarrassed when we’re right,” the left side shouted to the opposite.

One in the opposite group leaned over the edge, “Hey, Tyler! Make sure you press the button exactly when it smashes into the ground! I want to rub it in their faces that they were wrong!”

“Let’s go! Can we drop it already?”

“Yeah, I can’t wait anymore let’s toss it!”

“Hurry up I have to use the bathroom, but I don’t want to miss the drop!”

“That’s enough now,” the woman holding me had announced, “we’re just about ready to go! Is everyone paying attention?” The other modded their heads excitedly. “Tyler, are you ready down there!”

There was a faint response as sound didn’t always travel well this high up, “yes I’m ready!”

“Okay great,” the blonde woman continued, “now let’s review what brought us here today. Kara was kind enough to volunteer her completely full and unopened water bottle, and we have our trusty champion who has never lost a match before-“ she’s talking about me! - “the Woodmere Middle School Famous gravity pencil! Who thinks the very full and very heavy water bottle will hit the ground first?”

The ones in the left group all started shouting at once.

“Me!”

“I do!”

“It’s so heavy it will definitely beat that flimsy pencil!”

“Yeah there’s no way that thing wins every year.”

The blonde woman intervened again, “okay, okay, okay. Now who thinks our thoroughbred pencil will win?”

This time the opposite group, though smaller, chimed in just as loud as the first.

“Me!”

“It will move faster because the air slows the bottle down!”

“That pencil is like Tom Brady, it wins even when it can’t!”

“Everyone! We’re about to find out who wins,” the blonde woman began, “1 .... 2 .... 3 .... go!”

And that‘s how I got here. Falling 9.8 meters per second down the side of a building, as some small people cheer on my competition and me. I land with a thud, my point flying away, right next to the water bottle and once again hear the cries of two losing teams. Another thing that never changes: they never like that no one wins, except the blonde woman, she always smiles.

“But you said the pencil has never lost, Mrs. Johnson!”

“You’re absolutely right, Jayden, and the pencil still didn’t lose today!”

A short time later everyone arrives at the scene. She picks me up gently and whispers, “Until next year.”

And so, I wait.