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Last night I was at a party where a girl threw herself out of the window. She was sitting on a sofa, drinking white wine from a plastic cup, and the two other kids on the sofa were wrapped up in one another and not giving her any attention. The girl was perhaps the only person in the room who was not talking to anybody, and her face hung sad and expressionless, like a slapped tit. When she had finished her wine she glanced unhappily around for a bit, before standing up and marching over to the window. She had captured the room’s attention, but nobody said or did anything as she hoisted up the window, climbed out into the cold night air, and dropped off the window ledge. We were on the third floor. We heard her bounce and squeal faintly. Some of the room exclaimed. A small company of volunteers trotted down the stairwell to investigate what had happened to her, but she had gone. If she had limped or crawled off down the street then we would have spotted her from the window, so perhaps she was lying wounded in one of the gardens below.   

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