When she crossed the bridge, she knew she’d never go back. Still though, she turned and stole a last glance at what she was leaving behind.
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When she crossed the bridge, she knew she’d never go back. Still though, she turned and stole a last glance at what she was leaving behind.
Micro fiction contest
Traveler, Writer, Eclectic Unschooly Mama, Postcrosser, Cancer Survivor,Crafter, Gardener, & Voracious Reader, sharing bits of my life at Bikurgurl.com {pronouns: she/her/hers}
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