On an unseasonably warm fall evening, Sami set something railing of a bridge, watching the traffic pass below. They've been sitting there for a few hours, contemplating their death. This isn't their first visit to this spot, and they are fairly certain that this will be their last. Leaning forward, Sami tries to gauge just how far over drop it really is.

“Giving up so soon?” The scratchy voice comes from behind Sami, and they nearly lose their grip. Teetering on the edge, a wrinkled hand reaches out to help steady them. “Careful now, careful. Don't want to go falling off the edge.”

Sami turns away from the traffic and jumps down, pausing to assess the person that saved them from meeting death. Standing before them is a man who has seen many years. If the man is easily a foot shorter than Sami and hides half his face behind a knitted scarf. a matching burgundy hat rests on his head, allowing a few tufts of white hair to peek through. Hanging from his shoulders is a denim jacket that doesn't seem to add to his warmth, as his two sizes too big hoodie appears to be doing that job just fine.

“Ain't it a bit warm to be dressed like that?” Sami decides on a bit of small talk with the stranger, as things were surely in a new level of awkward now. Only moments ago, Sami had been calculating just how quickly they could die. The stranger glares at them before wrestling the scar from his face.

“As opposed to what? Dressing like you?” The old man scoffs at the idea and squints at Sami, perhaps wondering if saving them was worth it after all. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but we can't all dress like you. What with your ripped jeans and your band Tees and your –”

“Hey, I meant no offence. I –” Sami puts their hands up in surrender, but the man doesn't seem to notice. Instead, his focus is elsewhere.

“Hang on a moment. Is that Queen? Are you wearing Queen?” The old man points at them, wagging his gnarled finger as if scolding them for something. Sami looks down at their shirts to confirm his accusation, then looks back at the wide eyed strange.

“Wait. You know Queen?”

“Of course I know Queen! Just because I'm old as dirt doesn't mean I live under a rock.” The man stares at Sami for a moment before continuing in a softer tone. “That Freddie was quite a looker. I suppose the music wasn't half bad either.” He chuckles a bit and wrings his hands. Keen to keep the silence from growing between them, the old man shuffles over to the railing and peers carefully over the edge. He doesn't linger there very long and quickly backs away.

“You weren't really going to jump... were you?” His voice is barely above a whisper. Gone are the snark in his words in the mischief in his eyes.  All that remains is sadness and an expression of understanding. When Sami doesn't respond, he prompts them with a lighter question. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Sami looks at the old man and wonders why this strange person was wasting his evening chatting with someone that would have been dead by now if they had not been interrupted. Maybe that's just what they do. Being near death themselves, maybe they can sense it in others and seek them out. After all, it is pretty common to find two old people chatting away at each other for hours. But why spend that remaining time telling your life story? What's the point if they're going to die soon anyway?

“No. Not really,” Sami lies. That lie was a bitter one. It's one there told to people around them for many years. Truthfully, they would love to talk about it, but they had learned the cold hard fact that no one really cares. Not their parents when they came out as queer as a teen. Not their last partner when they switched pronouns and their name. Especially not their boss when they were fired for standing up for themselves to a horrid customer.  If none of those people cared, why should a stranger?

“That's fine.” The old man turns away from Sami to gaze out at the dwindling traffic below. He looks up at the Sky as if trying to gauge a shift in the weather and lets out a long sigh. He looks back at the traffic, shakes his head, and moves as though he might depart. After readjusting his hat, he makes eye contact with Sami again.

“I can relate, you know.” His words catch Sami by surprise, although with his remark on Queen it isn't much of one. “Whatever it is you are going through, I'm sure I know what it's like. Growing up a homosexual in 1960s Virginia wasn't easy. My father beat me, my mother couldn't bear to speak to me, and my peers tortured me every opportunity they had. My only escape was the arts. I lived through the works of Shakespeare and DaVinci. In the 80s I moved to New York and saw my first Broadway show. Leaving the performance, I met the most incredible woman in the world, who finally was able to become my husband back in 2011.

“After all those years of pain and suffering, I was finally able to find someone who cared about me and loved me for me. Someone who taught me the ways of the world and how to navigate through life as a proud individual of a society that spat on us, invented new slurs to hurl at us, and even murdered us simply for existing. Fat pride that we had wasn't for the society that turned its back on us, it was for ourselves and each other.”

A coughing fit interrupts the old man's speech. Red in the face and gasping for air, he fumbles at his pockets desperately trying to find something. His jacket falls to the ground from his shoulders, and the man quickly follows it. His gasps turned to wheezing and his hands shake tremendously as he struggles to open a pocket. He finally managed to retrieve an inhaler, but before he can put it to his lips, he collapses.

Sami can only watch in horror as the old man's knees buckle and his head hits the sidewalk. They rush to his side and find him still conscious. His trembling hands are somehow still holding the inhaler, but he can't quite bring it to his mouth. Without hesitation, Sami guides it for him, and very gently helps him operate it. As he was barely able to take the tiniest of breaths, he missed most of the dose. The effort of this attempt led him into another uncontrollable fit of coughing.

Not wanting to risk this man's life or waste any more precious seconds Sami withdraws their phone from their pocket and frantically dials 911. As soon as the operator picks up, Sami spews the information at an impossible speed, provides direction as best as possible, and hangs up without bothering to pause for response.

A few panic filled minutes later, Sami begins to wonder if anyone was even coming. Glancing at the mainstays, they are mortified to see that he has closed his eyes. Immediately fearing the worst, Sami panics and struggles to force down the bile rising in their throat.

“Oh shit. Oh shit oh shit oh shit. Fuck.” Tears begin to fall from their face as the reality of things begin to hit. A complete stranger saved their life, and now lays in front of them, quite likely dead. The wailing sirens ambulance can be heard from not too far off by the time that Sami notices. Ask the ambulance around the corner a few blocks away, they can hear nothing else. Tears are falling at such an alarming rate that they can barely see. Attempting to drive their face if only to keep watch over the fallen stranger, Sami notices that there is a very faint rise and fall to his chest. Holy fuck. He’s alive.

Just as the ambulance screeches to a halt, his eyes flutter open. Sami managers to choke out a relieved laugh and grabs his hand in an effort to comfort him while the paramedics prep the stretcher to carry him away. With extreme care, two lift him onto the stretcher and into the back of the ambulance while a third places an oxygen mask lightly onto his face. Barely able to move, the old man gestures to the paramedic who leans closer in. He sits up, makes a face, and turns to look at Sami. He reaches to close the door but pauses long enough to say something.

“Your friend here wanted to tell you something before we left. he said to tell you ‘you are not alone.’”

Before Sami could process anything, let alone respond, the paramedic closes the door and the ambulance pulls away, hastily heading for the hospital. As it makes its retreat, the cries of the sirens sound a little more hopeful.