Micah
We sat on the cliff side—the same one we sat just days earlier, side by side, ignorant of where our lives were heading. I should’ve known better, really. The past always caught up to you, and in this case, it was catching up to both of us simultaneously.
I dangled my legs uncaringly over the ledge of the cliff, seeing the ocean crash angrily against the sharp rocks as it filled my ears with the harsh sound. I briefly wondered what would happen if we slipped over the edge. Would we meet our bloody end from the viscous rocks, or would the ocean drag us out into its deepest depths and refuse to let us out of its grip until life is snuffed out of us? Would that be a better end to meet?
Doubt it would even work. Nothing had ever come that easily for me. Death would not be an exception
