Gone

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Jiggle

She had never seen him this drunk before.

He had been working and studying non-stop for the past several months.

This was supposed to be their first dinner out in a long while.

Just the two of them.

But they ended up partying at the club with his mates.

Well, he partied,

downing shot after shot.

She was pissed off that they hadn’t had dinner.

Now they were on their way home in the wee small hours of the morning, with him unsteady on his feet, and not a taxi in sight.

The group of mates walked as far as the stonewall that ran along the river.

She sat down on the wall exhausted, and annoyed at him.

Her feet were killing her.

She was wearing 6 inch heels and her petite 5’1″ frame had had to support his muscular 6’3″ frame as they walked from the club.

As she took off her shoes to rub her sore feet, he stood over her jiggling his house keys in her face.

“Oh fuck off!” she yelled at him, snatching the keys out of his hand.

He backed away his hands raised surrendering to her, his eyes a drunken glaze.

As their mates stood around chatting about the good time they’d had at the club, he stumbled away unnoticed.

Suddenly.

They heard a splash.

He’d gone into the river.

She had had enough of his antics.

“Drown you stupid bastard!” she yelled, her voice echoing into the night.

His mates rushed down to the waters edge laughing and shouting that he was a crazy bastard.

They yelled for him to get out of the freezing water.

But there was silence.

They began calling his name.

But there was no response.

Panic set in.

One of his mates dived into the freezing water and began swimming around aimlessly in the dark trying to find him.

But he was gone.

 

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