“Crossing” by Taylor Byas

A week after he’d left me for another woman, I tacked myself to the outer railing of the bridge where we’d last met. It was here where he ended things, and so I returned, the river rumbling shyly below. I hadn’t planned on jumping. I climbed over the rail to check again, for the seventh day in a row, how badly I wanted this life, if I wanted it at all. I was maybe coming to some conclusion before I slipped—the air whooshed upwards, I felt weightless. In my mind, a repeating chorus, might as well, might as well.