Bridge

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Some bridges lead to the other side.  Others close a gap when they’re left down.  They all have a personality.  They all have people who are attracted to them for the wrong reasons.

Joey had crawled out of bed.  It was another bad day.  His dog dead.  His girlfriend left and well, that was why his wife left.  

He still had his job, taxi hack, cab driver, motorized servant of the people who are chronically late and mistake his hackney for a time machine.  But when faced with the grid of the streets play the part of “knowledge boys” pointing out the route someone else drove.  The game is we lost the plot.  Everyone ends up worked up.

Another day of zombie fares, brings Joey the realization that it has gone all to pot.  Desperate for a change, he thinks of the bridge.  Stuck in traffic is a life style.  Waiting for a copper or two gets old.  Suddenly it hits him.  The bridge.  His way out.  

Surprisingly he parks where the sign gloriously states “At Any time”.  It’s yellow color even brasses him off.   Across the pond, they do this thing all the time.  But here.  This bridge.  They’d never believe it.

Joey stretches out of the black cab.  He finds the buttress rather rough with several footholds.  It crazy to think.  It’s crazier to attempt it.  With a quick lunge, he steps up the side.  Five meters up the back side, someone notices him.  No one does anything.  Another ten meters, he notices the fear of heights.  He looks down at traffic.  He looks up to the crossbeam, impossibly too far off.  

All of a sudden, dizziness takes hold.  A foot slips.  A body falls.  The fence breaks his fall in a bad way.  He tumbles face first to the stone wall bordering the Thames.  He’s alive.  Not even this worked…

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