Couples fresh in new love jump to their deaths hand-in-hand today and does the evening news bother to say a word about it? The TV doesn’t concern itself with those Americans so consumed with each other they sprint crazily from rooftops to the ground below. They only report on the resulting gridlock as Dads drive home from work rubbernecking, remembering those seven months twenty years prior when they wanted to pull their women close and leap twenty stories, putting an end to the world before the feeling fades.
In sports, the Grizzlies.
Happens every day in neighborhoods you might be too scared to visit, and neighborhoods you might hope to live in one day if that raise ever finds your paycheck. Dozens in the winter, hundreds in the spring. Littering the concrete with the mingling blood and bone of two human beings out of a billion who found each other. It was impossible but the puddle and the side by side body bags proves it happened. Too bad the news vans are all parked outside the house where the little blonde girl was kidnapped.
Only 14 years old. An honor student, beautiful Heather.
Good people don’t like to hear bad stories. People have to go to work in the morning. They don’t want to remember that they once had the chance to enter the infinite with hearts fat with gratitude that someone else on this planet exists. They want to know if it’s going to rain or if their baby stroller is hazardous.
Forget that raincoat.
No one cares if another new love falls out of the sky. It happens and it’ll keep happening and people don’t like to hear about it so it’s really not worth reporting.
Happy Couples Jump Day!