Village Bridge

A narrow wooden bridge spans a gentle stream separating the festival grounds. Rough-hewn planks worn smooth by countless feet creak slightly underfoot, their weathered gray surfaces catching the warm light of the setting sun. The railing, just low enough for Alma to sit astride, provides a perfect vantage point over the entire celebration—a sea of flickering candlelight and laughing faces below. The air hums with music and the scent of roasted corn, while the bridge itself trembles gently from the combined weight of the festival-goers crossing in both directions. At the center of the span, where the planks meet in a subtle rise, Alma finds her balance with the careless joy of youth, Pedro's steady presence beside her the only thing that matters.