The night was kind of cold.

Greg stood on the cliff’s edge, the wind tearing at his coat, whipping strands of his hair into his eyes. Below him was a cliff, he stood as if he was daring himself to fall.

He didn’t stand there by accident, he had walked for hours, from the meaningless chatter of people who pretended to see him but never really did.

But you here, there was nothing but air, the stone, and the sound of the waves in the water and his own breathing. He liked the sound of ...