“If you do it first, I’ll do it.”

I wasn’t going to jump. I had no desire to risk physical pain or fragile dignity, but I really wanted to see him jump.

He almost certainly wouldn’t make it. And then what? Guilt? Adrenaline? Would I feel alive or would I continue to sink?

I was so far down I couldn’t jump if I wanted to, sticky emotionless quicksand. Self obsession and self loathing. Thoughts, as always, turned to my past. And then.

He jumped.

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