01: Hope

I saw the young man again. He was standing in the middle of the bridge on 28th Street, staring out over the river. His shoulders were slumped as he leaned heavily on the railing.

I checked my watch--11:59 pm. My timing has definitely improved, I thought.

The man--barely more than a boy, really--stepped up on the rail and swung his left leg over the edge. Slowly, he brought his right leg over as well. He sat there for a while, steeling himself for what was to come next, and took his last look at the city.

As the hour hand ticked into its new position, I took a few steps toward him. He couldn't have heard me, because of the howling winds...but that didn't really matter. By now, he'd come to expect me.

"I know you're there," he shouted. "Don't say it. Don't you dare--"

But I had to.

"Don't do it, kid," I yelled back. "Maybe it'll be better tomorrow."

He tried to close his eyes tight, but something made him open them again. I didn't know if it was fear, or resolve, or curiosity...and to be perfectly honest, I didn't much care. All I needed was for him to take one more look.

His eyes filled with wonder as the city shone like gold all around him. Old, crumbling brick buildings were replaced by well-maintained apartment blocks. Breathtaking works of art stood where billboards had been. This was a city built on a foundation of respect and community, rather than greed and prejudice.

Even here on the bridge, he saw things differently. There was no trash on the asphalt, no pollution in the river. There were clean, quiet cars that floated above the ground, rather than the smoke-belching trucks and oil-leaking cars that I saw. The homeless man who had been panhandling on the other end of the bridge was now clean-shaven, well groomed, and smiling at strangers as he had a phone conversation with his oldest daughter.

He didn't look at me, and I was glad for it.

All too soon, the vision of what should have been faded, leaving him with only the knowledge of how short we had all fallen. Still, that was enough to back him down--he climbed over the edge, stepped to the ground, and started walking home.

He whispered something to me as he left. I couldn't hear it over the wind, but I knew what it was. It was the same thing he always said.

"Damn you."