Signs of life
Breathe.
Imogen grips the railing, her knuckles white. Below the bridge, the water froths and flows and she isn’t sure if the roaring in her ears is because of the river or the giddiness.
Breathe.
Under her feet, the pavement shifts and tilts.
Breathe.
She crouches and sucks in air. The stench of fried onions wafting from the nearby burger van makes her stomach roll
“You okay, love?” An elderly man peers with worried eyes over the enormous bunch of pink roses he is holding. The gold wedding band on his ring finger digs into his wrinkled skin.
When Aiden was better, they’d see the world, adopt a child. Never take anything for granted again
The flowers are probably for his wife, Imogen thinks, and this thought brings hot stinging tears to her eyes. Does he know how lucky he
