The Bridge at Sunset

We didn’t plan to be on that bridge. We were just walking home after a long day, our legs heavy, our conversation slow. But when we reached the middle, the sky was on fire orange, pink, the kind of colors that make you stop mid-step.

We leaned on the railing, not saying much. The river moved lazily beneath us, the air smelled faintly of rain, and I remember thinking, This is one of those moments I’ll carry forever.

We weren’t on a big trip, or anywhere famous. But that sunset made the bridge feel like the center of the world — just for us.