Fiction: Bridging the Years

Felisha walked out to the middle of the bridge’s pedestrian sidewalk. She looked over the edge into the blackness far below. There wasn’t much to see of the river at a quarter to midnight, but she could hear it.

As she threw one leg over the railing, a single car lit her briefly as it crossed. She paid no attention to it and didn’t notice that the car came to a stop at the first opportunity on the other side. Nor did she notice the man who got out of the car and began walking toward her.

She swung her other leg over the railing. She faced the bridge with her feet still on the walkway and her hands on the cold metal but her entire body on the wrong side of safety.

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