It is terrible to be alone.
I don't mean to live alone—
to be alone, where no one hears you.
--from Averno//Louise Glück
Winter rain turned the streets slick, the bridges death-trapped, spilling fresh bodies every week. Shattering the grey sky with a shriek, passers-by lifted their heads to watch a fast-falling figure, plummeting towards the streets below. And then, at that last, feverish instant, landing with all the urgency of a feather, a tumbled leaf.
But other times they just fell. Other times, they just broke.