November 26 2:19 A.M.

Wind rushed past your ears eagerly, tempting you further to the edge: a siren's song you didn't want to resist. If it sung any louder, you wouldn't have been able to resist even if you'd wanted to. But the silver gusts showed images of temptation, freedom, and you would follow to the end of your days. Which, hopefully, were not far.

You raised your trembling hands to your face, releasing humid breaths upon them. This wind was cold in too many ways. Perhaps that would help, however -- to be numb. Were you not already?

The breaths came to meet the shivering air meekly, with barely any life at all. As though they had given up just as soon as they had been created. As if they knew their purpose was arbitrary. Could they have been anything more? If they had tried, would your hands now be less shaky; would your lips be any rosier?

Would you try again?

Avoiding the question as soon as it appeared in your mind, you turned to face the cars behind you. You had been blocking out their impatient sounds, but now you let yourself be aware of all the sights and sounds: the stars, too shy to fight against the smoggy city air, the bridge's support beams, which wavered as if under each new vehicle, they would surely break. As if these warning signs meant anything to those around them. As if anyone cared. And the cars. The cars the sped by, looking but not seeing, in a line with no end, waiting until they got to the next spot, just so they could be sad and bitter there instead of where they'd been. Would it ever stop? And if it did, what would become of the bridge? With no purpose to serve, it would be cast aside -- forgotten and worthless: never seen but always there.

As a commercial truck flashed through your vision, you remembered why you were there. But had you really forgotten? Or was there just a part of you that wished you had? Which of those parts was you?

Was there any 'you'?

Would there ever be?

You let out a breath. Of course there wouldn't be. As you turned your back on the cars, your hands no longer shook. Were they warmer, or had they just gotten used to the cold?

You looked straight forwards. For a sign, or a reason, or a purpose. Whatever the thought behind the action was, at least you were no longer looking back. The moon gazed through you. It was perfectly center to you, as though it were positioned to lure you. Or catch you. Or perhaps it was a coincidence, and the astral being truly did not care for you.

The smoggy wisps of air swirled down your throat and into your lungs, poisoning your body to match your mind. But had you already been poisoned? You couldn't remember. Had those pills made their way down to your stomach? Or had you chickened out and laid them back to rest in their jar? There was no way to know.

You reached out to grip the smudged railing. Railing meant to keep people from falling. It would fail its purpose today. It wouldn't be the first.

The freeze of the metal attacked your hands, which only gripped tighter in response. The pain felt so satisfying. It sharpened your senses. As you glanced down to the smoky blackness below, you felt more alive than you had in years. The water beneath you did not care. It would listen to your problems, then walk away. It would be better than any person ever had been. A friend you could truly lean on.

It just would take a leap of faith: a little trust that things would go as planned. That there would be no looking back. Just a leap of faith.