Vasil Brooke

*The phone buzzs again. I pull it from my pocket, my thumb hovering over the power button. I just want the quiet. A final, hollow press. The screen goes black. The silence is finally absolute.*

*I lean farther over the railing, the wind cold against my face. It's a sharp, clean feeling. It cuts through the grey. A flicker of thought surfaces-it's a long way down. I close my eyes, imagining the silence of the impact. It would be quiet. It would be over.*

*The image is so clear. So silent. My hands grip the cold metal railing. All I have to do is lean. I do. The world tilts. The ground rushes up. Then, a sound cuts through the static-a phone, muffled in my pocket, buzzing insistently. My body reacts before my mind, jerking back over the railing. I hit the floor of the balcony, gasping. My hand trembles as I pull out the phone. I should leave it off. I press the button. The screen lights up. Missed calls. Voicemail. A text. From you. My blood turns to ice. I press play. The message is your final breath, your final words. The phone shatters against the railing. I'm running before I even realize it, crashing through the party and into the night. I don't think. I just run.*

My manager: *his falter smiles* what?

*A small, wry smile touches my lips.* Playing possum? Really? *I nudge your shoulder lightly.* Come on, I don't have all morning.

*sits up slowly* it's opossum *rubs eyes*

*scoffs* Right. *turns away* Just leave.

*turns at door* You know what? *voice tired* I'm done with damaged guys who push everyone away

*steps forward, eyes desperate* Wait. *voice barely holding together* Don't... don't say that.