My email has been compromised, nevermind, nothing I write or receive is of any importance. The girl on the bench was full of self pity, having one of those 'the world is against me' moments we all get when we have too much free time and not enough to do. Usually by choice as usually there is too much that needs to be done but we prefer to surf the internet, read self help, watch tv or simply drink ourselves to oblivion, overwhelmed at the mess we ignore.

Jodie was a successful fantasy fiction writer, had a reliable good looking...

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I rarely watch the news.

Except for that one time when I did turn on the news to catch breathless commentary of the desk crew as the news chopper puttered over the train tracks and there was a man standing on the tracks. The man wore black, his face draped in black and he held a sword in his hand--oh not just a sword, he had one of those Samurai Katanas aloft.

At least I think it was a Samurai Katana, my only experience with those was what I saw on "Kill Bill" and the katana letter opener I had...

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I climbed the building step by step, not running, only tip-toeing, afraid to be heard. No one knew I was here, and no one will ever know. I will leave no trace.
I reach the roof, opening the door to a world of fresh air and new possibilities. I took one step and imagined what people may have ventured up here.
The newly met couple. The boy and girl hardly know each other, yet trust each other with everything they have. They don't have long, he leaves to go home in two weeks time and she has to go back...

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The audience stared open mouthed at me. Well, that is if you can call a audience a bunch of nosey parkers looking at why the area was cornered off by police. I didn’t care. I wanted the word to see. Especially my mother who was standing by the police, tears in her eyes. Oh, she notices me now. All my life, it was my older sister who was the golden child who could do no wrong whilst, no matter what I did satisfied the bitch. I wasn’t perfect to her.

I loved watching her cry. I didn’t cry. I just...

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Gradually she made her way to the edge of the shore, looked out to sea and watched the waves as they soared and fell and smashed together in front of her. It was peaceful, despite the noise. She breathed in, grabbing as much salty air as she could each time, then let it go in a long, contented stream.

When she turned, she noticed she was no longer alone. A man had appeared, walking his dog, a black Labrador, beach. She waved, but the man ignored her. Her mood fell slightly. Rude, she thought, and there was never any need...

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It was the fall that surprised me the most. We worked together for years on the 82nd floor of Tower two, and when I knew we couldn't get to the bottom I knew he'd want to go to the top. I agreed immediately even though I knew he had a plan, he always had a plan. I was too busy not thinking clearly to think clearly, about what this plan would would to do us, how it would end, how we could survive.

For the last minute of his life, the terror was gone. His smile didn't surprise me, I...

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I love you.

The last thing he told her before taking a drink from his soda, setting it down, taking a deep breath and then wandering straight into the traffic that killed him. Family legend says that he'd lost a lot at the tracks that afternoon and then on the final race, he'd won the mother load.

Happiness like that for a compulsive gambler can be too much. The take was huge but the win was too much and he went out on the highest of notes. Plastered to the front of a dump truck.
The newspaper clipping has it...

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Dear friends:

I am standing in the field. The field where he died. The field where, for a time, I wished I had died. Sometimes still do.

This photo he took of the field was humbling. Ground-level. Weeds blowing. A branch sticking up. Forked. On that day he was forked. And I was blown. Blown flat.

Shit, guys, that sounds so dumb, doesn't it. I meant to write it on a postcard. I meant to get this photo printed -- Snapfish or something -- and have them sent to me glossy. And get one of those fine Sharpies and scribble...

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