I’d come to kill myself, where Liz had done so after prom. 30 years ago.
I hadn’t come to hang off a cliff and save a girl having second thoughts.
I reach her.
It’s Liz.
“Bill!”
I recoil.
“Please live!”
I grab her ghost.
We’re teens after prom, dangling by fingertips as I yell.
“Not without you!”
Copyright © 2019 by Jason H. Abbott, All Rights Reserved.
Discover more of my Aethereal Musings.
Tragic, but strangely compelling.
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Thank you, Jonathan.
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