Superstar“You said you loved me. You told me you’d come back.”
I lean forward and an updraft of wind catches my hair and flirts with stealing my breath. I am looking down at a straight drop of almost two hundred feet. Behind me, cars rush by, their drivers oblivious to my intentions, concerned only with making their way south to downtown Seattle, or north to neighborhoods like Fremont or Wallingford.
I push my chest forward, so I am hanging over the edge of the George Washington Bridge, better known here in Seattle as the Aurora Bridge.
A.K.A. Route 99. A.K.A. the “suicide bridge.”
One look down and I’m dizzy, the vertigo possessing me like a demon, filling me with a giddiness that makes my heart thud and nearly steals my breath. It’s quite a view from up here. I can see the distant mo
