One Life at a Time

My breath forms a white cloud, frozen in the winter air inches from my pink cheeks. Snow crunches beneath my shoes, like stepping on a Cheeto on the playground, and as my skin burns and my eyes tear, I lift my gaze to see someone - a boy, about my age - resting on the ledge of the building, no more than twenty feet away from me.

I had come to the roof of my building to jump. I hadn't planned on meeting someone, much less saving them, and having my life saved by a stranger I can't even remember the name of. Short, brownish black hair, the scent of oranges engulfing him, and that was all I remembered of him, the way his breath hung in the air like mine did, but his from a dying cigarette.

It's the beginning to our friendship. I believe every person has a purpose, but when suicides blast through New York, I know I can't save everybody the way I saved that guy. At least, not alone. First Mission: find the guy. Second Mission: make allies. Third Mission: stop the suicides. Are you ready, Nick?