The 'Shine
	The car drove over the rutted road, moonlight the only guide to the unfamiliar territory. As the black sedan approached a rickety wooden bridge, I could hear the roar of swiftly rushing water. The river was full from the recent rains. The clamor of its turbulent progress assaulted my ears. Peering over the railing, I could see the water below, its deep blackness broken only by the moonlight shining off the waves. The sight filled me with foreboding, and my hands clenched convulsively on the rifle in my lap. I glanced nervously behind me and saw that the child still lay in the floorboard of the backseat. I sensed that I was almost to safety. If I could cross the bridge, I would begin a new life. I would leave the heartache and disappointment behind me. I would finally be free. But still, the bridge seemed to stretch on and on in front of me. Something inside told me that was nearing the end of my journey, yet I felt I had only begun. I wanted to turn back, to see my friends one last time. But I knew I couldn't. I had made my choice. I made it many years before. And it was the right one for me. I knew that, but it didn't ease the worries that filled my mind. My choice was made the day that I met Tom Burns.