The Fall, by Guy Fletcher

(F.F.F. Website Story)

“Helena.”

The woman stopped to observe the decrepit man on the bench. It was him.

“I’m so sorry about Julia. I’ll never get over it,” he whined.

There was, however, very little left of the e-list folk singer. His face was bloated, once immaculate black hair, greasy, grey and receding, self pity in his watery eyes.

He recalled his last words to her sister before she killed herself.

“You’re stifling me. Go and find someone else to cling to. Get out of my life forever.”

Helena felt hatred…yet knew he’d soon walk the earth no more.

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