Anyway, here's how it starts.
From this height, the cars looked like dominoes, the pedestrians like roving dots. The breeze flew crisp and constant, cooling Nate's lungs on the inhale - none of that touted L.A. smog this close to the ocean. To the west, blocks of afternoon gridlock ended at the Santa Monica cliffs, a sheer drop to white sand and the eternal slate of the sea. The view would have been lovely.
Except he was here to kill himself.
It really is an effective opening, isn't it?
And from page 56, we find:
Awe settled in, a sense of the enormity of what he had done, but he expected to feel something more, too. A hint of remorse, perhaps.
And that's all the teasing I'm going to give you.