The Bridge of Forgotten Voices
Echoes That Refused to Disappear
There was a bridge so old that its wood had absorbed centuries of conversations. When travelers crossed it, they could hear faint murmurs rising between the planks — soft disagreements, nervous confessions, whispered love. One woman crossed every evening listening for her grandmother’s voice. One night, during heavy rain, she finally heard it: “Walk forward. You already know the way.” The voice faded as the storm cleared. The woman crossed the bridge once more but heard only silence. Some feared the voices were gone. But she smiled, for she understood: once a message is received, an echo no longer needs to repeat itself.
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