Rocco had never felt more alone in his life. There were no sounds except the ones he made himself.
He’d only made them to ensure he wasn’t deaf.
Rocco wondered about the altitude. Maybe he’d die of a heart attack on the way down.
Perhaps he’d splatter on the jagged peaks below like a bug hitting a windshield.
“Hope it’s a heart attack…”
The sound of his own voice startled him. Rocco quickly turned around to see if anyone heard, but of course, they hadn’t.
There was no one. Not anymore.
And it was boring.
Rocco almost wished he hadn’t pushed Joey now.