50. Malajube “Ibuprofène” La Caverne [Dare to Care]
“J’ai accepté mon sort pour contourner la mort.”
Crossing the bridge, something he had typically seen as a rather quick and painless affair, became more akin to spending the day on the bridge on this particular occasion. He knew he’d bump into at least one person he knew, whether it be from school or the coffee shop, but he really didn’t count on running into four (count ‘em, four!) acquaintances and a lost child. First was Angus Shetson, the guy he was assigned to a group project with that he had been actively avoiding since Thursday. That wasn’t too bad, though. He gave him his phone number with one erroneous digit and kept walking. Second was Bonnie Templebatch. He knew her name (who could forget a name like that?) but honestly could not remember where he knew her from. They talked without really talking for a few minutes and then luckily her phone rang and she excused herself. “See you at…see you later,” he mumbled as she skipped away. Next was Curtis Buskin, a burly man of forty years that once tricked him into applying for a job as his personal assistant only to have him show up at his “office,” which turned out to just be his messy downtown apartment. He declined the offer, but they became Facebook friends. The last adult that crossed his path was Debra Duchamp, whom he actually enjoyed seeing periodically. Her laugh was noxious, but her smile was contagious. They didn’t stop to talk. They walked and talked. It had a rhythm to it. They happened upon a lost little girl near the end of the bridge and per social convention, asked her where her parents were. The pigtailed eight-year-old just stared off the bridge into the river. He and Debra joined her.
