Grace, James and I.

(I want everyone to know that this is fiction. Total fiction, none of it is real. I am not suicidal. All characters in this story are fictious. Any similarity to someone, Live, dead, undead, or from another story, is merely coincidental and not intended.)

I look up.

The chair is ready,

the single light shines, like a spotlight.

On the rope hung from the ceiling.

I step on the chair and feel the rope caress my neck.

I hear two voices as I drop.

I float for a moment, then the rope tightens.