There was a whistling in her ears and the wind seemed to be bent upon sweeping her off her feet and carrying her into oblivion before she had a chance to take a good look at the sun crying its crimson tears. What splendid colors the sun shed before it died each day and then it was born again to die another day. Her decision was not a hasty one, she wanted to be sure of that. She wasn't so far gone in her mental capabilities that she could not understand why she was standing there. The thing is, this is where her paths had led her. All her decisions and her life choices and those which had been forced upon her by fate and circumstances had culminated in bringing her to this very spot. She had been walking on this bridge for almost a decade now and on many of those strolls she had seen the sun die. She had seen it die in so many ways and en-wrapped in so many colors that to her it seemed more beautiful than life itself. She already knew the very moment of her death. After all, ...