Rosie looked down at the 200-foot abyss. The river swirled around rocks as big as small cars, steam rising in the frigid air. Ice floated in fat chunks, turning around and dipping and rising from the water’s surface. She gulped and wrapped her sweater tighter around her body. Not that it did much good; the temperature was a negative digit, she guessed.

Her breath rose from her nose and mouth. Ice crystals were forming on her upper lip. A crow cawed somewhere off in the distance.

She glanced to her side and gasped. A little girl was standing next to her, holding a fistful of silver tinsel. The girl looked up at Rosie, who was standing on the edge of the Leo Frigo bridge.

“What are you doing?” The girl asked, her eyes filled with innocence.

Rosie smiled. “Swimming,” she replied.

“Momma says it’s too cold to go swimming,” the girl speculated, pulling her wool cap over her eyes.
“It is,” Rosie whispered, clutching a metal supporting beam.

The little girl got closer. “What did you ask from Santa?”

Rosie spat on the ground, fear gurgling in her stomach. Rosie shrugged. “Dunno. What did you ask for?”
“A dolly,” the girl said. She was missing her front tooth.

“Well, merry Christmas,” Rosie said, shifting her feet on the edge of the bridge.

“Merry Christmas,” the little girl replied. She reached out her hand and placed the tinsel by Rosie’s feet. “It’s sparkly,” the girl said, hissing on the S.

Rosie’s heartbeat quickened. “Thank you,” she said.

The little girl skipped off down the sidewalk and out of sight.

Rosie placed her foot in the air in front of her. Her foot trembled softly. “One,” she counted. “Two. Three.” She threw her body into the air, her feet clanging on the bridge and dangling under her. She plunged through the air, falling so fast, her body whistled. Like a bullet, she pierced the water and sunk. Her lungs closed and her hair flew out beside her. Her scarf tangled around her neck and caught on a log. She jerked and an air bubble gurgled from her throat. Then she hit the bottom and drifted, bobbing under the water.

It was quiet, the police told her family. No screaming, just a splash.

Through the tears, her mother managed to ask, “Did you find her body? Her clothes?” to which they replied, no, ma’am. But we did find something strange floating above where she jumped.

“What?” Rosie’s father choked out.

“Christmas tinsel, sir. Silver tinsel.”