By Audrey Tsai, TIWP Student
My heart stopped. I see my friend, on the other side of an old-looking bridge. She got lost on a hike four days ago and was just recently found in the woods. My friend looks so small, as if she was an ant. Even though she’s so far away, I know it is her. The bridge is creaking even before I touch it. There are pieces of wood that have broken and fallen off and it looks like it is over a century old. I want to leave, but I know my friend is on the other side. I still wonder why they could not have done something else to save her. Fog is creeping in as if I wasn’t meant to cross the bridge. As if she is supposed to disappear.
