A woman wanders aimlessly during the night's prime hour with the desire to chase away the rising distress. Trudging in the merciless winter, everything from her bronze skin to her hefty snow boots contrast the fresh, delicate snow in the sleeping outskirts of the city’s most unfortunate district. Her night stroll brings her to the familiar weathered, cobblestone bridge only visited in times of angst; it is an old friend that endures time's trials alongside her. She turns her head to stare at the scene beside the bridge and hazel orbs settle on the city's silhouette on the horizon and move to the dark, icy river below.
Unbeknownst to her, a tall, fair man of similar circumstances occupies the bridge to seek an escape of his own from the posh, materialistic part of the city, which resides parallel to the woman’s slums and connected to them by the aging bridge. He finds himself equally distracted by his own distressing thoughts while gazing off into the midnight moon as the woman thoughtlessly approaches him. Due to the man’s built stature and height, he is not aware of the smaller woman’s presence until their paths quite literally collide. They abruptly walk into each other only causing the man to slightly stumble back, but send the woman onto the concrete.
“Watch it!” the woman hisses.
“Huh?” The man comes to his senses and realizes his previous lack of attention. “O-Oh damn, are you ok?” Before he has a chance to offer his hand, the woman helps herself up, but slips on a patch of ice and ending up back on the cold ground attempting to not think about the intensifying pain in her rear from both impact.
He smiles at her in her helpless state with pity and sighs, “Clearly not...” She hesitates to accept his help, but hears him say, “Listen, this is the least I can do for someone with your luck. Just let me help you up.”
They have an interesting conversation, during which they discover how they share a craving for a change in environment that might kill the cycle of monotony in their lives. Hours pass as they stand together with their eyes fixating to the piercing buildings of steel and glass. But the rising of the ominous morning sun provides a signal of another tedious day. They notice the time they both dread to face nears closer by the second as the darkness on the bridge dissipates with the incoming light. The man checks his phone with a scowl and interrupts the woman mid-sentence with,
“I don’t mean to be rude, but I should really get home if I plan on getting to work sort of on time.”
“Ugh!” The woman glances at her phone and agrees, “Me too. I’ll probably get my head chewed off.”
“Well, I guess this is-” The man begins to turn to walk back to his end of the bridge, sadness evident on his flawless visage and in those piercing blue-grey eyes.
“Wait! Take this.” The woman snatches his phone before he could protest, quickly enters a name and number, and gives it back. She asks with a sly, flirtatious smile, “Did you really think I’d let a stranger as attractive and absent-minded as you get away without my number?”
The man looks at the name she entered and chuckles as it read, ‘Bridge Stranger’. By the time he looks up again, the woman is already halfway towards her end of the bridge, leaving the choice of any further communications in the hands of her new acquaintance.