Stoner Steve

Person: Stoner Steve Place: Under a bridge Weather: Rain Time: 10am The rain was lashing down onto the surface of the river creating endless ripples which spread for a moment before being bombarded by heavy drops, smashing them into pieces. Steve watched the surface of the water, entranced. His hands were numb with cold as the water dripped from his sodden jacket onto the ground. He was stoned again. He knew it would mean the end of his time at college, knew the drug test he had coming up would be his last, and he’d given in to temptation anyway. It was impossible to resist a cone of sticky buds, no matter what the consequences were. If he was offered a smoke, he took it. End of story. It really was the end of the story, too. When he was kicked out of school he’d be kicked out of home, and without a job or anywhere to go the bridge he was sheltering under was going to become his home. He sighed, feeling the weight of every bad decision he’d ever made pressing down on his shoulders. Why wait for the executioner’s axe to fall? Why walk willingly into that particular noose? Better to end it on his own terms. Steve stepped to the river’s edge and took a deep breath. He couldn’t swim, which would make things simpler. Even if he had second thoughts it wouldn’t help. He jumped.