He had not intended to jump

This is a writing practice using a prompt (in italics)

His foothold slipped from the steel beam, and as he plunged to his death a crazy joke tormented him; this was his last chance to steal a glance of the moon, the only sight that had pacified the turmoil nested in his heart and fed by his mind.

Such a clear and bright moon was bidding him farewell, at last. He had not intended to jump, but he had always longed for heights when hurting. Sitting on a high place, admiring the world spread below under the pale moonlight was comforting. The quietness, the sleep that sweeps everything when dark comes... it was like watching time stop, and with it, everything that hurts. A breather. One that would be burned to ashes by the first sun rays every single day.

He had not intended to jump... and yet, he was showing the night sky his most genuine grin. He had not intended to jump, but that slip was, by no means, what he would call "unfortunate".

It would take just a few seconds for his body to meet the ground. He did not panic, nor did he see the trailer of his uneventful life unfold before his eyes. Oh well, it may have been way too uneventful even for that. Instead, he kept watching the moon, surrounded by the cold whisper of the autumn wind and the smell of an after-rain night.

He had not intended to jump, but he was a second away from reaching his yearned everlasting peace. He watched the top of the pavement trees frame the night view.

His grin widened as he got ready to greet the long-awaited warm embrace of nothingness, and, finally, the merciless ringing of time threw him back to the routine nightmare.