He stood up and offered her a hand, but she got up by herself. They stood there together, staring at the sun rise over the San Francisco skyline.
"It's beautiful, don't you think?" she said.
"It's hard to imagine such a wonderful sight to hold such horrendous people," he replied.
"Not everyone is horrible," she laughed. She turned to look at him.
"Majority of people are," he said bitterly.
"When someone who isn't waltzes into your life, all the more reason to keep them there. Because those are the type of people worth living for,"
"This is too deep for a hungover morning," he chuckled.
"Alright," she laughed softly. Gesturing in one direction, she added, "Hey, let's go this way. I came from the other way, and it will be a physical and symbolic bridge I will have crossed,"
"But I came from that way. I want to cross this symbolic bridge too!" he exclaimed.
"Of course," she sighed. "Okay, how about you go that way, and I'll go this way. I'll meet you downtown,"
"Where in downtown?" he asked, accepting the suggestion.
She smiled cryptically. "Fate brought us on the same bridge last night, and if it's meant to be, it will bring us together again,"
"Fate, my ass! We're in San Fransisco, there's only one bridge around here!" he argued.
"Granted, but what are the odds that we gave up on the same night, and we met at the same spot? This bridge is huge!" she pushed.
"You know what, fine. I'll meet you somewhere downtown. But I'm telling you now, if you die, I'll follow you," he warned.
"Right back at you!" she replied, walking away.
He chuckled to himself. How ironic, the only way to save her life is to save his own. He started walking in the other direction, over this great, symbolic bridge.
He felt joyous, rejeuvinated, like a pheonix born out of the ashes. Nothing much had changed, he was still alone and abandoned. No, he was not alone anymore. Deep down, he knew he would find her again. Maybe not today, or tomorrow, but some day he would.
Walking off the Golden Gate Bridge early in the morning, with a killer hangover and old, oversized clothes, he found the source of his strange, new happiness.
He had found something worth living for.