It was a coincidence that I drove east on the West Seattle Bridge and saw you. Your motorcycle was parked and you had just seated yourself on the edge, the first cop had arrived and more were coming. Oddly, I needed to be exactly below you. I was returning to a job site to collect my tools. There were several police cars below, watching and waiting. I parked and stared at you. You chose a beautiful night with a clear sky, a gentle breeze, a warm temperature. I watched you smoke cigarettes as your pretty blond hair waved in the wind. You smoked some more as the cop tried to talk you down. I couldn't hear any words; I could only guess at what was being said. You adjusted your position on the edge several times. You even put on your leather coat. I stared at you for more than two hours. I asked myself if there was anything I could do. I felt powerless, so I gave up and left. That's probably how you felt, too. You were still on the edge when I left.