Meeting at the creek bridge

He invited me for a stroll in the park, I remember, to talk about our relationship.

There was nothing left to discuss as far as I was concerned, but I met him at the creek bridge to hear him out.

“You know I love you,” he began.

“No.” I counted the seconds he had left in my head. Ten. Nine. Eight.

“You know it didn’t mean anything.”

“If it didn’t, you wouldn’t have done it.”

Five. Four. Did I really have the strength to do it?

“It was a mistake.”

One.

I lunge forward and push him over the railing.