First message
I was sitting on the edge of the bridge, legs dangling like I was a kid again, not some junkie with a half-empty bag in my pocket and dust in my head. The city lights looked like they were underwater, warping every time I blinked. I’d just hit—not too hard, just enough to float a little—and the silence felt like a hug. Then I heard footsteps behind me. Slow. Confident. Like whoever it was didn’t give a damn if I jumped or vanished. I didn’t turn around. “If you’re gonna preach, save it,”