She stood alone at the edge of the cliff overlooking the drop off that had recently formed after heavy rains. Her tears washed over her face until her whole body was sobbing. She willed the world to swallow her into it. It didn’t matter if she were here, of this earth, one more day, she was invisible at this moment anyway, he didn’t want her any more and she didn’t know if she even wanted herself. Clearly she had to decide if what he saw in her was perhaps more than she saw in her own self? IF she were so selfish as to hurl herself into the unknown feeling, and sucessfully disconnect from the physical world-ripped from the people that gave her the gift of heartache, would that day that they trickled holy water over her head….would that moment prevail? Like a grand shield, negating her decision, simply by having waved a hand, and calling her life “symbolic” Frankincense and Myrhh inciting her first sneeze.. ..” God” seeping into her infant pores through her angelic white satin dress, would that be the clincher? Is that what does it-a hand reaches out through the air, just before her heart is pierced by some metal debris jutting out. Would this crevice instead cradle her in a hug as luck would have it? She’d felt other-worldly embraces before-that summer as a child, she swam in two confused angry torrents of undertow pulling her under…..”Deception Pass,” A red flag? Eegads… this is true…. She would undoubtedly only puncture herself on the creamy skin of her face, her FACE….her best feature, and forever have to explain this awful puncture scar long after the bloody scabs had dropped away and the tears had dried and the twigs were removed from her hair-only her heart remaining forever bruised. That is the story that could live inside her in shame? How does one carry that secret with them? …..how would she tell that story- as luck would have it, she would indeed stay undiscovered for just enough time to realize she DID want to live and then some senior citizen dressed as if she were still middle aged in her designer matching sweat suit and pants in some unfathomable color like, turquoise, would come along with her perfectly manicured hands, matching her outfit, and her cloud of white toy poodle, whom she was just sharing the exquisite view with…she would be the one to find her! That is how life works. And in her surprise she would have to befriend this woman who had ”saved her” whose surprise didn’t show on her face due to the success of her many Botox sessions-robbing her of any expression. She’d peer out over the oblivious eagles and grand rolling hills in the distance and happen upon my body, twisted in a heap of despair on that cliff side, leaning over she’d say to me in that perfect Betty White sugary tone ” oh honey, why do you let boys DO that to you?