Eugene had a private terror that he nurtured in the darkest hours of the night that one day, the bottom of the river might seem the most appealing option to him, as well. To walk out somewhere quiet where it was just him and the insects and God, and finish it. There was no sense to his fear; he had never been inclined to take his life. But he was afraid the mood was catching, and one man’s hopelessness might transfer to him if he spent too long in their company, dead or alive,
