Reader looked at the bridge. Then the sign. Then the bridge again.
"Do I really have to do this alone Ernest? Sure the sign has my name on it, but I mean - come on, it doesn't say no You."
Ernest gave a tired expression. Sighing deeply he walked over to the bridge and tapped the first plank of wood with his foot. The sturdy piece of wood that suggests it can prevent your death of falling off the cliff; essentially a life barrier between you and gravity and the fall below, snapped.
Not just snapped. But rotted. Turned to dust. Exploded. In a puff of impossible the thing was gone. Little bits falling silently in mournful slow motion.
"Sign has your name on it Reader. I'll wait. See you when you get back."
