He stood above the body of water, the harsh winds pulling him in. Albert Bradley is going to jump. It's 1929, and he lives in upstate New York. Albert breathed heavily as he looked down into a liquid black abyss. He wondered how long it would be till a G-man came and attempted to talk him out of this decision. Although it wouldn't make a difference; his mind had already been made up. In fact, inside, Albert believed, he was already dead.
The Friday before, Albert's wife shot and killed their five year old daughter Eliza Grace. He hasn't been outside in one week. He has been passing his days, hours, and minutes contemplating the different ways of suicide. Time was just as meaningless as his existence. He was hypnotized by grief, his soul was chained and tortured by anger. It was if he was frozen, unable to eat, speak or move with ease. Albert was weighed down by depression.
It was now that Albert stood above the rushing waters, bracing himself for his decision. It was a decision he knew he could never take back.