I have two short little scenes like this that I want to expand into a short story for my creative writing class. It’s a really tough choice. ): It was one of those really warm evenings that made you remember why you waited all year for summer to come. We sat facing east on a concrete bridge with the sun setting behind our backs. We could have sat on the other side of the bridge and watched the sun go down, talking about life and love and all sorts of beautiful things. We weren’t really romantic people though, and we were already seated, and while we both probably considered it, neither of us said anything about it, so we stayed where we were - our legs between the posts of the guard rail, feet swinging freely side by side, staring at nothing. He was talking, but not about anything important. He did a lot of talking just for the sake of talking, and I did a lot of my best thinking while I wasn’t listening to him talking. He explained in great detail some injustice he had faced in his day that had obviously really been bothering him and I began watching the river flow beneath our swinging feet. In that moment, I remember thinking this was exactly what our lives were; we sat safely on a bridge above everything, always together, but never really together, just watching as the rest of the world rushed beneath us. Never in all of my life had I wanted so badly to tear off my clothes and dive off of the bridge into the river below. I was afraid of heights, though, and I didn’t know how to swim, and he would have noticed I wasn’t listening to his story, so I stayed where I was, not really listening to him talking, watching the river flow beneath our swinging feet.
