Stock still stand and stared. Unbelief trailing in the wake, dragging you away from the edge of fear. Don’t even look, or look away; do you choose to be part of the story or part of the scenery? Fifty feet down, it’s all just roaring air, scream of siren. As fools rush in, you turn away. Comforting, safe, knowing they’ll do more. But what if will plague you as you sleep, wake at 3.33 night out, night in. Questioning, regretting, What could you have done? Your conscience, pricking and flicking the lids of your eyes. Anything is better than this.