A crack I could have sworn was not there last month

Went out this afternoon to look at a bridge I've inspected for fifteen years, and there's a crack in a girder I could have sworn wasn't there last month. But that's the thing about bridges — they keep their secrets until they don't. Sometimes I think the structure is just waiting to tell me something I wasn't ready to hear. I logged it, as you do. Then I stood there a while, feeling like the bridge had finally spoken.