Flashback — Original

Then he typed another, to the community art center downtown: “I’d like to apply for the teaching position. I don’t have a degree in art, but I know someone who did. And I can learn.”

“Always,” Alex had whispered.

Instead, he said: “Let’s get coffee.” flashback original

And for the first time in three years, he believed it.

“You’d catch me,” Alex whispered.

He pocketed the phone and looked at the water one last time. For a moment—just a moment—he thought he saw a flash of movement at the river’s bend. A ripple that wasn’t wind. A shape that wasn’t a fish.

Alex had inched forward. Not to the edge, but closer. Leo was the only person who could do that—pull him out of his own cautious orbit. They’d been friends since freshman year, a mismatched pair: Alex the accountant-in-training who color-coded his notes, Leo the art major who painted murals on abandoned buildings. Then he typed another, to the community art

“You always say that,” Leo had laughed, kicking a pebble off this very bridge. “You’re not going to jump, you’re not going to quit your job, you’re not going to tell her how you feel. Alex, your whole life is a waiting room.”

That was the moment. The one Alex would replay a thousand times. The moment he should have said more. Should have closed the two feet between them. Should have told Leo that the reason he never jumped, never risked, never spoke was because the only thing he truly wanted was standing right there, and losing that was a fall he’d never survive. Instead, he said: “Let’s get coffee

Alex closed his eyes. The rain became sunlight. The rusted railings became warm, dry wood. And he was there.