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Dear Harmony,

   Last night I went out to the lift bridge, accompanied by a large bottle of red wine. It was my twenty-first birthday and your dad gave it to me as a present, though initially I'd always decided I would never touch alcohol. We talked about that, remember?

   I sat there, legs dangling over the edge, staring at the angry waves below and gripping the bottle's neck tightly. The crashing water was like a siren's song, inviting me in. Scarcely aware of what I was doing, I inched closer to the edge of the metal bridge, feeling tingles shoot through my feet and up my spine.

   I'm twenty-one, Harmony. We were supposed to be engaged at the end of summer and married this spring. Instead you chose to leave me there on that bridge with a bottle of the devil's poison, ireful water howling just a mere hundred feet below.

I didn't have a bottle opener and I hadn't thought to open it prior to leaving the house. You see, I have become most irrational. Perhaps that is why I almost threw myself into the water. But just as I was halfway over the slippery metal, water spraying up at my legs, something startled me.

   I scrambled back onto the bridge, bottle still clutched in my sweating fist. My entire body was drenched in sweat. I screamed and swore.

   I smashed that bottle. Glass and red fluid everywhere.

   Your dad's car was what startled me. He had seen me, and honked the horn. In the heat of the moment, I hadn't registered his presence. He pulled to a stop when I smashed the bottle.

   I have since been hospitalized.