I wish I could say that was the end of our story. I now know that, for you, our story ended the night it began: more of a haiku than an epic. But for me, our story ends here, with my taking a not-so-graceful plunge from a bridge to splatter on the concrete below.
Russell waits behind me. I’m not sure, but I think his breathing is probably a bit quicker than usual; he’s most likely tense, maybe wishing he had just pedaled on instead of stopping to see if he could help.
His voice startles me. “You know, if you’re thinking of, oh, doing something that other people might find stupid or selfish, maybe you should consider this: do what you want, but do me a favor. Let me know I did all I could to prevent it. Just take a walk with me, off the bridge. We’ll sit down. We can talk about what broug
