Over the Bridge.
She stood on the bridge, looking down at the reflection of the stars in the park’s pond.
The water was still, until a leaf from a nearby tree landed on the surface and sent ripples outward.
As the ripples touched the stars, they began to lift from the water.
The clock in the tower struck midnight, and the stars rose higher.
They aligned with the stars above—returning to where they belonged.
From the other side of the bridge, where she wasn’t looking, a swan took flight from the water. It flew over her, and with each beat of its wings it sliced through invisible threads that had been pulling the reflections upward.
The stars fell back into the pond without a splash.
She watched the swan disappear into the night, standing still, waiting to wake—just in case it had been a dream.
