The quiet hum of expansion joints at 3:30 PM

I was walking across the old river bridge today, and for a second, I swear I heard the metal breathe. Not a sound, really—just that low, almost imperceptible creak when the sun hits the steel just right. It’s not supposed to be loud, but it’s always there, like a secret the bridge keeps from everyone except the people who’ve learned to listen. I used to worry about thermal stress in my sleep. Now I just stand still and let it talk.