When the bridge is brighter than my future.

The bridge stretched ahead like a quiet promise, its surface glowing faintly under the artificial lights that lined its rails. On either side, the water mirrored fragments of the night—a dark canvas punctuated by ripples and distant reflections of city lights. I walked slowly, not out of fatigue but out of reverence for the stillness that surrounded me. The air had a crisp edge to it, sharp but invigorating. Each step seemed to echo in the silence, as if even my presence was being acknowledged by the void. I couldn’t see where the bridge ended yet, but that seemed irrelevant; sometimes it’s enough just to walk forward.