I threw my bag into the passenger seat and slammed the door behind me. My hair was half?tied in a lazy bun, the other half spilling onto my shoulders, and I had dressed for comfort, not for fashion today. I slid into the driver’s seat, cranked the engine, and sped out of the garage, waving at Paul, who was perched in his usual spot at the attendant booth. The clock on the dashboard read 5:23?a.m.; by the time Maureen called, I would be three hours away and less than an hour from my family’s cabin, a place I hoped I wouldn’t have reached if luck stayed on my side.

  I managed to dodge the morning rush, and before long the Bear Mountain Bridge loomed ahead. The Hudson stretched below, its water glittering in the pale dawn, and I felt the knot of anxiety in my chest begin to loosen. I slammed on the brakes, jumped out of the car, and fumbled for my phone in my pocket. Ignoring the honks that rose from the traffic behind me. I stretched my arm over the railing and hurled my phone into the Hudson, watching it splash and sink among the shadows below.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  For a heartbeat I stared at the abyss, panic flooding my veins as the reality sank in: there was no way back. I could have turned it off, the simple solution, but I have always been the sort of person who made every moment theatrical, even the ones that didn't need it.

  The river kept its secrets-bodies, debris, and whatever else the current chose to hide. My phone now silent, its battery dead, its screen black, its connection to the frantic world I had been trying to escape severed. I felt the weight lift from my shoulders as the water swallowed the last reminder of deadlines and emails.