After Lefting Me On The Bridge He Lost His Mind Chapter 12
The flight took off on time.
As the plane broke through the clouds, the city lights below blurred into a soft, distant glow.
I leaned back in my seat and let out a long, slow breath.
I took my old SIM card out of my phone, snapped it in half, and dropped it into the small trash bag in front of me.
In the final second before I powered the phone down, the screen was still flooded with his missed calls.
I couldn’t even be bothered to look.
Later, coworkers from the New York branch told me what happened that night.
Apparently, after the hospital room door closed, Truett spent a long time kicking it, shouting my name.
When he finally left and hailed a cab straight to JFK, he got stuck in a chain-reaction pileup on the highway.
Traffic was at a dead standstill for a full hour.
It was raining as hard as it had on Thanksgiving. He was so frantic he kept pounding the steering wheel, and at one point, he tried to get out and run to the airport.
But by the time he came bursting into the terminal, drenched to the skin, my flight was already marked DEPARTED on the board.
After that, he went back to the apartment we used to share.
The light by the door wasn’t on. The dining table was empty. No one came out, coughing, to hand him his slippers.
The entire apartment was silent.Â