The last step

Anthony turned to face the river, clutching the railing at his back.

It somehow seemed inviting, the moonlight shimmering on the eddies.

He lifted a foot, leaving it hovering.

‘Is that really the answer, son?’

‘Probably.’

‘What about your parents?’

‘They won’t give a shit. I’ve failed all of their expectations.’

‘I sure that’s not true. And your friends?’

‘What friends?’

‘How about I be your friend then?’

‘No thanks.’

‘I’m a good listener.’

Anthony stared at the quick moving water.

‘Come-on, son. Climb back over.’

Anthony looked back, held the old man’s gaze and let go of the bridge.



A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.