See you someday (It's sooner than you think)

He watches the water come into veiw, faster and faster. It takes him a second to realise he's falling. It takes him even longer to realise that this wasn't on his own accord and longer for the blood rushing in his ears to quiet down enough to hear the screaming from the people near the edge when he fell.

It's like his life slowed down. It's like rocks are hitting his head with memories flashing every few seconds.

"Holy fucking shit."

He's going to die, and it won't be his fault. It'll be someone else's, and he can't afford for his death to be on someone else's shoulders, but there's no way to stop his speeding down the 243 feet to the calm water. That'll be like concrete when he hits it, no matter how he lands. This is it for him.

And then it's all gone.

No screaming, no blood rushing, the water isn't there anymore. He can't feel the air rushing past his arms. What?

He opens his eyes that he had no memory of closing, looking around. He locks face first with George. Great, he's dead.

Wait.

No. That can't be right. The brain spends the last few moments after you die playing memories in rapid succession; at least he read that somewhere. He can't remember now, and he has a feeling that doesn't matter right now.

"George..?"