Elias stood at the center of the old iron bridge, fingers curled tight around the railing as if he were holding onto the last sentence of a book he no longer wished to read. Below him, the river moved with quiet indifference, a slow, dark ribbon slipping through the world without noticing those who stepped away from it.
Cars whispered past behind him, their drivers sealed in private universes. No one slowed. No one saw him. That suited him fine. Solitude made the choice easier—or so he told himself.
He closed his eyes.
“Cold morning for thinking,” a voice said.
Elias startled, turning. A woman with wind-reddened cheeks and mismatched gloves stood a few feet away. She wasn’t panicked. She wasn’t even breathing hard, as if approaching a man half-leaning over a railing was the most ordinary thing in the world.
“I wasn’t thinking,” he said.
“Ah,” she replied softly. “Then it’s an even colder morning for not thinking.”
Something in her tone—steady, unhurried—unraveled the tightness in his chest. He looked away, ashamed of the tears he hadn’t realized were forming.
The woman stepped beside him, leaving a respectful distance. “I come here when the day feels heavier than it should. The river listens, but it’s not much for answers.” She tapped the railing. “People, though… we’re built for answers. Even the ones we don’t know yet.”
Elias let out a sound that was half-laugh, half-sob. “I don’t know where to go.”
“Then stay,” she said. “Just for this moment. Moments are easier than decisions.”
The river murmured below them. The sky lightened by a shade. Elias inhaled, the air sharp but clean, and stepped back from the edge.
The woman smiled.
“Good,” she said. “Let’s start with that.”
Reena’s Xploration Challenge #408 – Creative Experiments and More
Therapy Bits 
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