A/N: This is a story about the movie Harold and Maude. It is based on how Harold feels during the last scene. Please read and review!
Maude was dead.
That was the one thing that I knew for sure.
Maude was dead.
I had loved her. I was going to marry her.
And she was dead.
I accelerated, bumping down a dirt path. Driving fast and recklessly, like Maude always did.
But Maude was dead.
I went even faster, the cliff coming into sight. It came closer and closer, my excitement rose.
Closer and closer.
My banjo, Maude's banjo, rattled in the backseat.
Closer and closer.
Maude was dead.
And then, the car was falling. It fell and fell, smashed to pieces on the rocks below.
The waves lapped at it. Silence began to overtake it. From my view point on the cliff, I stared.
I wished someone had been there to see it. The perfect suicide. I loved dying, but I had never done anything this big before.
Maude was dead.
I picked up the banjo and plucked it a couple of times, playing a song I knew well. It was Maude's favorite song to sing. Mine to.
I skipped along, walking back the way I had come. They would find my car later, but they wouldn't find me. I would be long gone by then.
Maude was dead.
And now, so was I.