The Weekday One Hundred

The cold metal cuffs tighten around his thin wrists and he wonders. Why did he agree? What was this need to belong?

They weren’t his friends. He knew that. And they certainly didn’t have his interests in mind. He knew that too.

But he went along with the plan anyway. Under the cover of darkness, he stood atop this concrete bridge overlooking the highway and helped push that unwieldy rock over that chain-link fence.

Then came the screeching of tires, the crashing of glass, the heartbreaking cries for help.

And now he had plenty of time to think about why.