Old rotten bridges

[Suzanna Gilbert]

<:As Suzanna Gilbert:>

I walk along the road, aware that there are eyes on me, thinking that on the surface not much has changed about this little town. It is misleading, because everything has changed. All of the people I knew the last time I was here are long since dead and buried in the graveyard. My red hair marks me as different, I think, since I have yet to see another with red hair.
I am jolted out of my revere by the change of my footsteps as I walk on the wooden planks of the bridge. I go to the fragile wooden railings and lean out over the water beneath: and it's a shame that I cannot see my reflection there.