SHE’S BACK: Flash Fiction Friday
Sounds halted. A sudden, momentary silence I’d not felt for years—never a good sign. I often wondered if I were the only one that could feel it. Despite the rain that still fell, and the cars that still passed me, things fell deafeningly quiet. Then, pattering and tires running along wet pavement rushed to fill my ears again.
She was back. It was back.
Sirens pierced the air to interrupt normal nightly noises. Several police cruisers and an ambulance crossed an intersection far ahead of me. I opened the local news application on my phone. A headline scrawled black and thick across the white background. Another jumper on the George Westinghouse bridge—another person afflicted by its presence. I knew it well because I’d once been there and somehow escaped to run and cut ties besides this odd, distant connection I’d been left with.
There’d be another body for the count—ruled a simple suicide—and there was nothing I could do about it.