I nearly don’t go. It’s still dark. I could turn over and go back to sleep.
I leave the house with my gear and a flask of hot coffee.
When I arrive, a pink line splits the sky. I set up the tripod, squat on my little folding stool, take a shot.
Every five minutes for three hours I take another. Always of the same spot.
The first ones have no people. As time passes, that changes. Ones and twos at first; then scores; hundreds. An army marching to battle.
Suddenly they’ve gone. It’s just me, the bridge, the day.
Thanks to Julia for this challenge