He Stumbles. His steps shallow and filled with tension. His dirty shirt clings to his skin, his body releasing sweat as he shuffles forward. He sees the corner up ahead and makes it there, leaning his lanky frame against the cool brick behind him. “If one person will smile at me today, then I won’t jump.” He tells himself. He stands there all day, barely clinging to the cup of life, eyes pleading, hands trembling, heart bleeding. And no one even looks at him. That evening, as the traffic slows and the red and yellow lights dwindle, he shuffles slowly towards the bridge at the end of the road. He watches the wave’s crash below him, and closes his eyes. Remembering when he was younger, smaller, still loved, and his mother smiled at him. His heart warms and he finally let’s go. His body hits the water a moment later, the dull clap unheard through the honking horns of angry people, and the slurred curses of others. And his last thought was her smile, and …