John’s girlfriend dumps him. Gutted, he wants to die.
Going homing on his motorbike with rain on the road on a hot summer’s night, he weaves in and out of the long run of traffic.
A car coming towards him, no place to pull in. John swerves, feels the wheels skid on the slippery surface.
Lying on the road in the wet, a ring of strangers staring down at him, he hears the wail of the ambulance hurrying.
He is cold, he is dying. And now, too late, he wants to live.
From the depths of crimsonprose: this was first posted in November 2012