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AMIDST THE BITING COLD, A FRENZIED DASH TOWARD THE El train station led to the bridge that loomed adjacent to the Gallagher's residence. This bridge, a silent sentinel in the frosty night, was a canvas for a multitude of experiences.
Here, one could lie beneath the mighty steel railroad tracks, basking in the mesmerizing passage of trains overhead, creating a tableau for stargazers to lose themselves in celestial wonders. It was also a haven for those seeking the heightened euphoria of intoxication, where the frigid air reverberated with the unbridled cries of revellers, echoing into the darkness.
However, beneath this tapestry of experiences, the bridge concealed a sombre reality. Its accessibility, though enticing, made it a perilous location for those teetering on the brink of self-destruction, a haunting truth that rendered it a tragically convenient place to discover someone in the throes of a potentially fatal overdose.
Fiona abruptly halted her sprint as she approached the scene, where a sombre gathering unfolded. Funeral vans flanked the area, shrouded in a grim atmosphere. Police caution tape cordoned off the perimeter, with a crowd of onlookers anxiously congregating to witness the unfolding drama.
Pushing her way through the throng, Fiona's voice rang out loudly as she inquired of a nearby police officer, "Do you know who that is?" Her query drew the collective attention of the crowd, their collective curiosity piqued as she firmly held onto Debbie, restraining her from darting toward the uncovered body, now being revealed by the diligent officers.
The police officer maintained an enigmatic silence for a moment before making a swift stride towards them, interposing himself between the group and the lifeless figure.
His voice carried a stern command as he implored, "Stay back, okay? Stay back." Tensions mounted further as Amelia, standing on her tiptoes, strained to catch a glimpse, her anxiety exacerbated by the knowledge that Debbie might soon lay her eyes on her father's lifeless form—an experience no child should endure.
As the officers carefully manoeuvred the body, Amelia's heart raced, and she anxiously nibbled on her lower lip. It soon became evident that the body did not belong to Frank. Instead, it was yet another dishevelled homeless man, a tragic victim of a prevalent overdose epidemic that plagued the South Side.
Relief washed over the gathering like a soothing balm. Frank was still out there somewhere, alive and likely causing trouble for someone.
The oppressive tension that had gripped the air began to dissipate, mirroring the melting ice on the ground. Veronica, seizing the opportunity, broke into applause, her enthusiasm contagious as many joined in, celebrating the fact that the lifeless body did not belong to Frank.
"See I told ya." Steve's Yiddish voice echoed through the cold whispering air.
Fiona's lips still twitched downwards, her hazel flexes projected at a small grey cloud of nothingness. " Where the hell is he?" Was the question that was echoing through the air.
