At the end of a frazzled rope hung a man, daggling by a few blistered fingers and a little hope. He looked down, staring into the black abyss below, wondering if it would hurt, and if there was a bottom. Only a half an inch, he slipped, but it felt like forever in an instant. He breathed again. In short, quick bursts, as sweat beaded his brow.
The rope wiggles a little and looking up he sees her, knife in hand, slowly sawing and smiling. I know you said you loved me, but I thought I told you good bye.