He stared silently out the window at the city as the driver steered the cab in the direction of the Brooklyn Bridge and rambled on aimlessly about things Aj wasn't in the mood to listen to. An entire conversation that left him longing for the quiet solitude of his apartment once more. Each passing minute, each passing second left a chance for him to doubt his decision and that was something he wanted to do. No more doubting. No more fear.

He'd rather feel numb than unsure.

He looked down at the wallet he was holding in his hands. He knew he wouldn't be needing it anymore but he also knew it would be foolish to leave it behind. He didn't want to leave a trail of information pointing to where he'd gone or what he'd done.

'Just disappear,' he'd told himself repeatedly as the days had worn on, 'just disappear without a trace... it's not like they'll notice you're gone.'

He went to shove the wallet into his jacket pocket but stopped instead when he noticed the corner of a photograph hanging carelessly from the edge. It was one of the photographs he'd grabbed from his album the evening he'd quickly packed and fled from his home.

That day had been crazy... painful and crazy and all he'd wanted to do was get the hell as far away from everything as he could. He remembered grabbing a plastic grocery sack from the pantry and stuffing a pair of ratty blue jeans and an old t-shirt inside, along with a clean pair of underwear and socks. He'd only planned on being gone for a day or two. Funny how a day or two had turned into weeks and then months... and now... forever.

He remembered grabbing the photo album and selecting the five random photos, tugging them quickly from their protective pockets and stuffing them in his wallet as he ran down the stairs and out the door without even grabbing his cell phone or his ipod. He had money... he could buy new ones.

He remembered the cab pulling up in front of the house and he remembered jumping in and telling the driver, an older foreign man with one gold tooth, to drive him wherever the hell he felt like. He'd somehow ended up at the airport and from there he ended up in New York and he'd found that apartment and he'd stayed there for two long months.

He stared down at the wallet in his lap, brown and worn looking, a gift from his mother, the picture jutting out the edge, taunting for him to open up and take a look. He did... for the first time in two months.

The first photo, a snapshot of him and his mother a year before at his birthday party. They were both smiling... both happy. She was the only person in the world he ever felt really loved him. But isn't that what they say... "Your mother's the only woman who will ever really love you." Unconditional love that couldn't be helped. She was certainly the only one he'd really miss. The only one he'd regret not calling to say 'goodbye.'

The second photo, his best friend Howie, back in the good ole days. The two of them were getting into trouble the way they always did back then... back when things were fun. Back when they were young and carefree. Back before the drugs and alcohol... the pain. They were bowling and Howie had come up behind him and grabbed the ball from him in mid-swing. He was laughing, Howie was laughing... that was fun he hadn't known in years.

The third photo was one from his wedding night 2 years earlier. The night he thought he'd remember forever as the happiest night of his life. The night that should have lead to a lifetime of love and happiness but instead lead to anger and hatred, hurt and loss of trust. "We're having a baby Aj"... she said, and in the same breath... "we're over." How they'd ended up the way they had he'd never know. He dreamed of being a father... of proving he could be the kind of man his father never was. Now he'd never get that chance.

The fourth photo -- a group shot from a charity golf game in Kentucky only 6 months before. Brian, Kevin, Howie and himself. Someone noticably missing. Always noticably missing now. The smiles seemed fake. They all stood inches apart. No arms around each other's shoulders, no bunny ears, no fun. Brian leaned on his club. Kevin held his hand up to his eyes to block the harsh rays of sun. Howie had his hands in his pockets. Aj was holding a bottle of beer... and no one had tried to stop him.

Everything was different now. Everything was painful.

Tears filled his eyes as he flipped to the final photo. Him and Nick. Sitting on the dock outside of Nick's home in Florida. They had their feet in the water, arms stuck back behind them propping them up. He remembered the cool breeze blowing through their hair. He'd stayed with Nick for a week then, needing to get away from his wife for a while. Needing some time alone. It was the last picture ever taken of the two of them... the last picture ever taken of Nick.

He remembered the phone call in the middle of the night... he remembered the voice on the other end of the line, one of his best friend's voices, filled with pain and sorrow...

"Aje... it's Howie."

He remembered the words that had been spoken then... words that could never be taken back. Words that would forever change them all, and not in a good way.

"It's Nick Aje. He was in an accident... he's gone."

He remembered the disbelief and then the pain... and then the numbness.

He felt the same numbness now as the grew closer to the bridge. How had his life come down to this? How had he sunk so low in despair that he couldn't find a way to climb back up. Rock bottom hurt... but he'd been there before and he'd found the air. This was lower than rock bottom though... this was buried six feet under rock bottom with no bell to ring to let them know you're still alive.