It was late. Mid-winter. A party. Everyone has to party a little sometimes, right? She wasn't meant to be there. But she was, and she saw, saw The Other Girl with your arm draped around her. You struggle to explain.
"She means nothing to me! Come back! It's really not what you think-"
But she's gone, out the door, away from the blasting music, shaking with oncoming tears. It's all your fault. Your fault she left the party mad, got into her car angry with you. Your fault she drove a tad too quickly, and the car slipped.
Ice, a thin layer, covered the bridge. Her gaze was through a veil of red-hot anger. Of course she didn't see. Not until the car was spinning. Not until it flipped over the railing. Not until she could see no more.