We met on the bridge.
I, John Bradley, a local tourist.
She, bending over, her eyes looking down: staring
straightforwardly at the afterlife, exploring it. Designing
her jump in her mind. Planning her next breaths.
'Hello', I said to her. 'Aren't you afraid you might fall
over?'
'Aren't you?' she tossed my mechanized question back at me
like a Boomerang, and recovering from its impact, I decided
to keep the conversation alive. Maybe even, I was
pretentious enough to think I could try to keep her alive as
well.
'What are you doing here?' I tried to correct the wrong
impression I thought I made on her.
'Same as you: planning my next move.' She did not seem to
care for my efforts.
'Are you going to jump?' I discharged as a last resort.
'Are you?' was her not at all unexpected reply.
'Why couldn't you answer one simple question you surely know
the answer to? Or don't you?' I banged my head against her
wall of Cynicism.
'Because it's useless. And yes, I am going to jump.'
'Why?' I inquired.
'Because I've decided to, and because there's nothing
holding me back.'
I grabbed her arm. 'That's not true. I'm holding you back'

'Why should you? You don't know me, you don't even know my
name!' she out-spoke me again.
'What is your name?' I was led to ask, wondering to myself
how didn't I ask her before.
'Grace.' She replied in a low voice.
'I'm John.' I introduced myself. It was really nice to meet
her, although I did not admit that at loud.
'Hello then.' She said in an almost friendly tone.
'Hello again.' I corrected her. 'Perhaps we could free each
other, don't you agree?'
'Not if you continue clutching at my arm!' she fired at me.
'You will jump if I do.' I assumed.
'Yes I will.' She left me no doubt.
'Listen, Grace...' I said without knowing what to say next.
I had to pause for a moment. 'What if life is worth living?'
I said finally.
'Please try and understand! I came here to die, that's a
given, that's the objective truth. Now, at least, I could go
smiling.'
I could not accept her objective truth because it frightened
me. 'So you're asking me to let you go, and thus, to lose
you.' I tried to make her understand.
'But I was never yours.' She showed me the obvious. I wasn't
concerned about failing to meet her in the past, but about
the fact that she would never be mine in the future.
'Do you have a pen?' she interrupted my going in circles in
my mind. I pulled out my fountain from my pocket and handed
it to her. She found a crumpled scrap of paper on the
ground.
'I'm confiding you with my will, since you, an unmet
stranger, are the closest relative I have. Please close your
eyes and count to five.' She asked. I was amazed at her
sudden affection towards me. 'Won't you allow me a proper
farewell, at least?' I asked hopefully.
'That's the farewell I ask for. Please, close your eyes.'
She said kindly. I did.
The seconds pounded inside of my head: one... two...
three... four...
Five.

We met on the bridge. It bridged not life and death, nor
good and evil, but on the moonlit bridge, 30 feet above sea
level, she smiled at me from the folded paper and said:
"Life is worth living".
She was right, of course.