Short Story Starter

This is the beginning of a new story I am currently in the process of writing. I have no idea where I am going to end up, nor how I am going to get there, and I am currently sans title, but the idea of this story has me very intrigued, and I am reminded of one of the things about writing that amazes me: it's entirely possible for the author of a tale to have no idea where a story is going, nor have any knowledge of where it will end up. You can often be as in the dark about the details as your eventual readers will be. I find that fascinating. Anyways, here's the opening of the tale, and if a potential, even placeholder title pops out at you, let me know.      

     I kick the stool out from under me and drop. The slack rope tightens violently, the noose viciously choking off my vital air supply. My neck does not snap as I thought it would- I guess that's only in the movies. I am choking to death. I frantically grasp at the noose, trying desperately to free myself, to alleviate the horrible pressure and quiet the alarm bells ringing in my brain, as my bodies' survival mechanisms kick into high gear and try to erase the actions taken since I made the decision to do this to myself. My efforts are futile. There is absolutely no way out of this. I'm seeing shades of red, of purple, and of grey, as I choke. My body is swinging to and fro, as I continue the futile attempt at rescue. As the seconds turn into minutes, these efforts slow. Things begin to darken, and, just before everything goes dark, my mind's eye settles on the image of the thing that led me to decide to do this to myself this morning: the North American Robin sitting on my window sill.