The bridge sighed today

I stood on the south abutment at 6:17 a.m., coffee cold in my thermos, and heard it—just a low groan from the deck, like a joint settling after years of holding its breath. Not a stress fracture. Not a warning. Just the steel remembering how to be metal. I’ve spent twenty years chasing failure in bridges, but today I just listened. The rust on the gussets looked like old fingerprints. I wonder if the structure knows I’m listening back.