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Excerpt from BACKSTAGE

William Sheridan drove impatiently across the Ross Island Bridge on his way home from a dreadfully challenging day working as set designer for the Portland Opera Company. A new set had been ordered for Carmen and production was running easily three days behind. With opening night at the Civic Auditorium a week away, he had his crew working around the clock. Everyone was on edge and he felt as if all he did anymore was to bellow orders at people and have them screech their discontent in return. He needed a break, thus his trip home to seek temporary sanctuary.

As was usually the case, his thoughts turned to scenarios of what would happen if the Ross Island, one of Portland's grand old bridges, one day snapped under the immeasurable weight of thousands of cars and sent them all plunging into the cold waters of the Willamette River. Would he survive, or would he be crushed under tons of steel and concrete?
Of course, there was the possibility that he would survive the fall only to find himself trapped inside his car and unable to escape. Then, gasping frantically for the breath he would never again experience, he would yield to the liquid doom, never knowing if she still loved him.
Melodramatic, but potentially accurate.
The thought caused his breathing to grow shallow and his heart to gallop like a quarter horse. Perspiration beaded on his upper lip and dripped from his brow. He asked himself the question, "Why am I doing this!" It was the same question he always asked, and the answer that resounded in his conscious mind like a digital playback was, "Because I have to!"
Of course, he really didn't have to, at least not in that sense, for there were alternative routes. It was just this tickling notion in the core of his brain that if he didn't cross this bridge, something horrible would happen. As for what, he wasn't sure.
A therapist had once told him that he suffered from something called obsessive compulsive disorder. When asked to define the condition she had simply suggested that he watch a movie called, "As Good As It Gets," and then return for a further discussion. He had gone out and rented it that same day.
William found the story to be quite enjoyable. Especially so being that Jack Nicholson was his favorite actor. However, as for gaining any understanding regarding his alleged condition, there was nothing. He did note, however, that he bore a noticeable resemblance to

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