Kevan Smith - Bridge

Dark, threatening water swirling far below drifted him back to her twenty-five years before.  Before famine, armistice, bomb dropping, their world was tense but not like now.  Now, no one trusts neighbours, friends or nation. 

She was breathtaking.  He would stand and stare, trying to stop his lower jaw from flopping open.  But the mind, the steel trap, now that was the big attractor.  Without that her face was mere dressing.

Had she forgotten their pledge, lost love-interest-hope, maybe she had died?

Hiding in the shadows, stands a trench-coat and fedora, collar up hiding her facial-scars, eyes wet, in pain.