One For the Angels, Part 1 (Conversations With Dead People Challenge)

The river looked hostile. Choppy waves on black water made it look cold. But it was warm this time of year. I guessed it would feel like going back to the womb, floating in that warmth, letting it fill my lungs. I took a deep breath to strengthen my resolve, and climbed over the rail.

“Geddown from there!”

Halfway over the rail, a hand grabbed my arm and jerked me back. I lost my balance and sprawled on my ass, cracking my tailbone on the pavement. “Ow! What the fuck?”

A homeless guy stood over me. Greasy hair, greasy clothes, skanky trench coat held together with safety pins. Hadn’t shaved in at least a week. Or bathed, by the smell of him. “What the fuck?” I repeated, in case he didn’t hear me the first time.

He crouched over me. His hand held a burning cigarette that he waved in my face. “Seven. Just this morning, I pulled this kid out of a car wreck. Seven years old. Had his whole life ahead of him. And here you’re about to throw yours away. So I’m asking YOU , kid, what the fuck?” (continued…)

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