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Heads or Tails?

A coin spins fast, fast enough to endow the flat metal with the illusion of a sphere that travels along the mahogany counter like a planet orbiting the sun.

Richard taps the coin. “Heads or tails?” His eyes sit on Augustus standing across the bar’s counter. Augustus beholds him with the amount of skepticism that his beard—wither than the flowers in his Hawaiian shirt—allows him.

Augustus dangles a toothpick around his mouth a couple of times. “I see no difference.” He crosses his arms. “You have to pay that beer anyway.”

Richard releases a sigh wonkier than his white-and-blue stripped tie. “Don’t you even try?”

“Heads,” Augustus growls.

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Can suicide set us free?

I rang the bell and waited, but my friend didn’t open. It was weird, since his car was parked outside his house. I knocked the door three times and called him. After couple of minutes, he opened the door and invited me in.

The curtains were shut and the place had a pungent odor of alcohol and ashtray. He sat and lit a cigarette. He looked pale. It was no wonder since he was dealing with the split of his longtime girlfriend. I avoided the subject and talked about the usual stuff. We took a couple of beers that relaxed the moment and later we went for lunch. After that, I dropped him back home.

Years later, having a drink with him, my friend confessed me that the day I visited him, he was about to commit suicide. The rope was around his neck, and he was waiting for take the leap. But my stubbornness calling at the door prevented him of doing it.

I saved him… without knowing.

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Hush Little Baby

He woke up sweat soaked. With the bone-chilling sensation of little fingers tighten around his throat. Mary, his girlfriend, slept placidly beside him. He cleared his throat and came out of bed straight to the bathroom.

The man in the mirror was haggard and not even the cold stream of water could refresh it. He rolled a towel and stuck it in the gap between the door and floor. He reached a pack of cigarettes taped below the sink, lighted one with his quivering hands and stood on tip toes to blow the smoke through the high window.

He felt guilty.

He was ashamed of himself.

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