Claire Ashby. Yup. Her name was on that list too but it wasn’t just her, apparently, the whole damned lot had been on that bridge when it collapsed. It was a pity there wasn’t an hell for her to go to. It was tempting to say that ‘you reap what you sow’ and ‘what goes around comes around’ but that would mean I too got what I deserved. Well, at least I was able to get some sleep that night. The beer probably helped too.
The next morning I went to check out the bridge. There was a small crowd on either side of the river bank where the bridge had stood. There were numerous loose bricks here and there but most of the structure was now lying in the river. The most notable thing was the battered carcass of a car lying next to a crane. There was nothing for me to do and I wondered why I had come so early so I crossed the river from another bridge nearby and jogged around another park for half an hour.
On my way back I stopped at the small park next to the railroad and took a seat next to an old man on the bench and rang up Claire’s number well assuming she did not change it.
‘Hello… who is this?’ Claire said in a soft-spoken voice.
So she was still alive.
‘It’s your beloved lover’ I said sarcastically and hung up the phone.