Her favorite types of bridges are the old, wooden ones that have vines curling along the railing and suspension cables, in the deep woods. She prefers it when they overlook a stream, so when she’a standing on it, she can gaze at the water crystals rushing over the rocks.
These types of bridges remind her of The Bridge to Terabithia. A magical, scenic bridge that takes you somewhere else…somewhere better. She wants to go somewhere better, but no matter how many bridges she crosses, they only leave her with reality. Every bridge she crosses that doesn’t take her far away from reality is burned down. Regardless of the beauty they uphold, and regardless of the history they have. She just doesn’t want to be followed, and she doesn’t want to go back.
She picked me up five minutes to six. She drives a little silver car…a Dodge I think.
Upon opening the passenger side door, the stench of air freshener, cigarettes, and perfume wafted up my nose. I breathed the smell of her in and bid her ‘hello’.
She was wearing a long-sleeved, blue and grey striped shirt and dark blue jeans. Her long hair was pulled back in a ponytail, as always. She looked really good.
Then she pulled out of my driveway and headed toward our First Date destination: The Olive Garden. My family thought that I was going to the mall.