I wasn’t cold, but I was shivering when I walked onto the Clayton Road overpass. I wasn’t scared either, even when I climbed over the rail. I didn’t really feel much of anything.
It was late at night and it was quiet. No cars went past. I looked at the road below. It was a long way down. I focused on the spot where I would probably land, between the white line and the brown gravel. I wondered if it would hurt or if I would die straight away. Then I wondered who would find me. Maybe it would be a truck driver or a shift worker. I felt bad for them.
I must have been thinking about things for a while, because when I looked across to my right, I saw a man down the other end of the overpass.
He was smoking a cigarette. I could see the orange end glowing in the dark. I got nervous. He was probably walking his dog or something. I didn’t want him to come closer. I closed my eyes and let go of the rail, but then I realised it would be awful if he saw me do it. I decided to wait…