In a small town, on a small bridge sat an even smaller girl. The rain continued to fall in visible sheets, water building up on the muddy roads and soaking everything to the bone. The girl shivered. The rain ran in streams down the girls vacant face, as if crying for her. The girl hugged her thin arms around her knees.
Wet. Cold. Hungry. Tired. Lonely.
These were the little girl’s only thoughts as she looked into the rain but didn’t see. She didn’t hear the deep bass of rolling thunder, nor did she hear the fat drops of water as the sky cried and the tears hit the ground. She did, however, feel the thoughts roaring silently through her head.
Wet. Cold. Hungry. Tired. And completely and utterly alone. Not even Bridge was with her now.