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Looking out the window, he saw the outside world with sullen despair. Grey clouds hung low in the sky, hiding the last glint of sunlight, awaiting disaster. The water lapped lazily at the shore like a mother rubbing her child’s back. The whole day had been dreary.

Dressed all in black, carrying no identification, Vaughn drove toward his destination. Parking off the side of the road, he walked a quarter mile to the old, desolate bridge. He climbed up on to the steel beams looking down at the dark, rushing water. Without her, he felt like an empty bottle of booze, tossed aside and forgotten. All the money and material possessions he’d acquired during his rise to fame meant nothing. Their argument the night before had torn his heart into tiny pieces. She’d left him broken and hollow.

Vaughn spread his arms high and wide as if preparing to fly. He tilted his head back, inhaling the humid, evening air. Dampness filled his lungs. Just as he was about to lean forward and plummet into the river, a strong wind pushed him back. After his bottom landed with a thud, the rest of him continued until his skull cracked onto the pavement. Temporarily knocked unconscious, his limbs remained lifeless.

Moments later, the toot of a car horn awakened him. His eyelids fluttered open and one arm landed over his face to block the annoyingly bright headlamps.

A car door slammed. Feet pounded on the ground. Closer and closer.

“Are you all right? What were you doing up there? Can I help you?” One question after another spewed from the lips of a female passerby. “I’m Sharon, by the way. Can you sit up? Are you bleeding?” Her thoughts must have been crowding her brain so much they flew out of her mouth like wasps.

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