She burned the bridge without a second thought.

Ran, barefoot, through shards of glass that would have wounded a weaker soul.

Now, on the threshold of everything she’d ever wanted, she cautiously looks back.

The glass, strangely smooth, shimmers, beckoning.

But the bridge is gone.

Quietly, she begins to rebuild.

Susan Gale Wickes is a writer who calls Indiana home. She enjoys writing short stories, greeting card verses, and the fun of cartoon captioning.