She laughed at me, smoke coughing from her lungs. I could feel myself deflate as I stood beside her.
She dropped her cigarette and stepped on it while shaking her head.
"Listen, buddy. You can throw up the pills, stitch your slit wrists, and step back from the ledge. But when that gun punches a hole through your chest, that will be the death of you. And sometimes that can be a relief."