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Meeting on a Salt Stained Bridge

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The air tasted like Saltine crackers and burned my eyes. I slowly made my way across the bridge, watching out for any booby-traps the ancient bridge might have left for me. The wind tickled the bridge's delicate joints. Orange rust collected around the bolts used to hold the rickety contraption together. It cried out in pain as I crossed it. Salt stained planks clattered beneath my feet and bay water sloshed beneath me in rhythmic time

Sea gulls fluttered against the blue gray landscape. Red, orange, and yellow trees were the only color for what seemed like miles. They dotted the horizon, making the mountains seem like they were on fire.

I take this path everyday. Today was the first time I saw anybody else cross this bridge. Her slender shoulders were hunched up against the cold as she made her way across the antique bridge. For a long while I watched the way she walked, how her hips swayed back and forth as she progressed across the bridge.

She must have felt my eyes on her because she looked over her shoulder and smiled. Her blue eyes sparkled against her pale complexion. Freckles dotted her nose and rosy cheeks. She had cherry red lips that matched the color of her jacket. The black buttons were buttoned up tight. A white scarf poked out of her collar.

She had shoulder length dark brown hair that hung down around her shoulders. The wind picked up and blew hair across her face. She reached up and brushed her hair away. She gathered her wind blown hair and pulled it all to one side. Her white winter cap was knocked slightly askew by this action.

“Don't you think it's a little to cold for a walk?” She asked.

“Would you like to get coffee?”

“Sure.” She replied.




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