BRIDGES - THE BOOK

James Michael Taylor

She put a message up on Facebook. She’d wrecked her car and she couldn’t get to work. I watched to see if any of her friends would volunteer. They just wished her well
There’d been a storm. The streets were frozen. Cobble stone ice on all of the bridges. And there were many bridges between her house and her work

She was a breeze that brushed against me. And without effort she convinced me. Oh, please, nobody pinch me. She has cast her spell. Maybe if I was bolder I’d feel her head here on my shoulder. Perhaps my eyes could hold her. Only Time will tell.

Her name was Bronwyn. From my house to hers then to her work and back to my house was 35 miles. I did that twice a day for a week. 70 miles a day. Then I took her to Dallas to pick up a new car. I liked her. She died last year.