She sat there contemplating should I jump or not. I’ve got nothing left to live for. She thought. The water rushed underneath her. She climbed the edge of the bridge, preparing to jump. She stood on top of the old wooden bridge, rotted with age, uncertain of what to do next. She thought of her little brothers smiling face and knew what she had to do. She had to protect him. So with a deep breath she jumped off the bridge. In her last moments of clarity, she could not think of the beautiful forest view before her, but instead thought of how that damned number had ruined her life. It was everywhere, hidden in everything. Now the number would ruin her death. Today was January 22. 1+22=23. She hits the water. Sweet relief.