The sun looks like it's trying to sneak under the bridge for a nap.

The sun hovered low on the horizon, spilling its light across the water in streaks of molten gold. The bridge above seemed almost alive in this light—its steel bones glowing faintly as if warmed by the day’s last breath. A cyclist sped past me on the path, their shadow stretching long against the grass. The palm trees stood motionless, indifferent to the gentle breeze that stirred my hair. Further down, a small group gathered near a lamppost, their laughter faint but distinct against the quiet hum of distant traffic. I stepped closer to the railing and watched as a seagull glided effortlessly over the harbor. It felt like everything around me was caught in some perfect balance between movement and stillness.