“Remember when this place used to be
good?” she asked.
He nodded. “Those were the days.”
They looked up the hill at the nearly
hidden restaurant where they had often dined, remembering evenings
spent there in unlikely bliss. It had meant something to them then
and now it didn't, except in vague nostalgic terms.
She wrinkled her brow. “It did used
to be good, right?”
“Of course it did.”
The edifice looked the same, but the
last time they went, the vibe was completely different from what
they'd experienced back in the day.
“What changed?”
He rubbed at his chin. “I'm not sure,
maybe us.”
A bridge stretched between them and the
restaurant. Physically it was easy enough to cross, but the
metaphorical chasm was too wide to traverse.
“What do you mean? We're the same as
always.” She looked to him for assurance, but found none.
“We've gotten older,” he said.
“So has everyone else.”
He nodded. “They probably don't go
there anymore either.”
It still looked appetizing, so to
speak. Maybe they didn't need to go there anymore. Maybe it was time
for others to enjoy what they once had so that one day they could
also stand near this bridge and share bittersweet memories of
fleeting moments.
“There are other places to go, I
suppose,” she said.
“Like here, for example,” he
replied.
They stood in silence and looked around
them. It was a nice bridge, pleasing to the eye and easy enough to
cross.
She inhaled deeply. “This is a good
place.”
His lips curled upward into a smile.
“It really is.”
They stood a few moments longer and
then continued onward toward the bridge. They kept moving because
that's what everything does.
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