Flashback Original -
The rain on Alex’s face felt different now. It wasn’t cold anymore. It was just water.
They never got the coffee. Leo got a call from his gallery—a last-minute showing. He’d bounded off the bridge, kissed Alex on the forehead like a blessing, and said, “Next Tuesday. Same place. Bring courage.” flashback original
“You’d catch me,” Alex whispered.
“I’m not going to jump,” he said to the empty air. The rain on Alex’s face felt different now
Then he typed another, to the community art center downtown: “I’d like to apply for the teaching position. I don’t have a degree in art, but I know someone who did. And I can learn.” They never got the coffee
The rain was a baptism, cold and relentless, soaking through the thin fabric of Alex’s coat. He stood on the bridge where the old train tracks used to run, staring at the water churning fifty feet below. The city was a smear of wet lights behind him.
