Last time I was here, it was autumn. Rain was falling. Not real rain, but water dripping from the trees. I was wearing my leather jacket. I was still using it back then. I wrote poetry here. Now I am writing you instead.

The lights, the sound of cars, the feel of asphalt beneath my feet. It’s always there. It drives me nuts.

I could just disappear into the night. Or go home and write poetry. I want to disappear. But I don’t want to leave you behind. I could die. The bridge is not far from here. I could just get down there and... Look. Into the water. No strings attached. And if I find the courage to jump, you’ll know. I’ll text you this. And then we won’t see each other until the afterlife...