The Bridge

As the rain falls on my face I walk just a little faster. I'm hurrying to get home and get out of these wet clothes. I stop and look around before entering so I'm not seen and followed. Once in my little nest I strip off my wet things and get into dry clothes. I can hear the rumbling of cars as they race by on their way to wherever. I daydream about the young family that might be on their way home. I hum a little tune as I open a can of meaty dog food. The wind blows my hair back as I take a plastic fork and start to eat. I look up and read the graffiti someone had spray painted on concrete. A cold tear rolls down my cheek as more cars rumble overhead. I wipe away the tear and remind myself that my house is also a bridge. I tell myself that a bridge is just a way to get from one place to another. I cry. Written on 12/4/15