On the dusty path that passed for a road in those distant parts
“Hello,” he said approaching her, somewhat awkwardly, as they both walked down the dusty path that passed for a road in those distant parts.
“Hello,” she answered, guarded, with a subtle frown while observing him.
“I build bridges,” he said, a little more confident and obviously more than a little proud of himself.
She seemed to consider this for a while, not really sure how to react. She didn’t stop looking at him for a few more moments and then lowered her gaze.
He got worried that he had been too forward, and that his untimely, cumbersome, revelation would drive her away. When he was on the verge of blurting out an apology, she looked up again, not at him, but straight ahead, as if readying herself to run and leave him behind.
Something in her purposeful posture stopped his apology in its tracks.
She waited a few more seconds, and finally said, “I build mounts. Mounts and mountains and valleys and rivers and gaps and abysses and hills, and all sorts of topographical elements that, now that you mention it, could benefit from bridges.”
They both fell silent and just kept walking down the dusty path that passed for a road in those distant parts. And never left each other’s company for the rest of their lives.
