It was truly a marvel. Once standing as a monument to engineering, its steel girders all powerful and impenetrable, yet the great bridge fell swiftly to its grave. A series of detonations exploded its base. It fell as I imagined Frank had fallen: suddenly. The entire tower sections simply disappeared into the Bay. Once again, I saw Frank in my mind’s eye, slipping unconsciously into the depths. The experience was quite surreal, as if someone in a penthouse had pushed the elevator button for the lobby and dropped forty floors.
We heard a rumble, delayed a few seconds for time to carry the sound of the explosion. Then it was gone. The bridge was gone. Just like Frank. Here and real, one instant; enveloped in silence the next. My mission was accomplished.
With its demise, a thank-you escaped my lips.
The following Monday, I called the law office and said, “Get me out. The bridge is gone. Settle the case for whatever your fees are and close it.” It was over. I have no idea what the legal fees were. What I knew was that other venturous kids wouldn’t be climbing in “this cool place” where you can look across the Bay to San Francisco any longer. Money was never the issue.
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