Is that a plunger?

I stood on the edge of it all, a lone figure against the storm, contemplating the grim series of events that had led me here. The trolley problem, they called it. An ethical dilemma turned deadly reality. I had solved it the only way I knew how - with a bullet. The man responsible for tying all those people to the tracks was finally dead. It was over.

That’s always been my answer, I don’t touch anything unless it’s to switch it to the person who put me in the position to “have to decide” because fuck that guy.