The bridge sighed today

I stood on the old footbridge over the river at dusk, and for a second, I swear it groaned—just once, low in the joints. Not a crack, not a warning. A sigh. Like it was remembering how to breathe after years of holding its breath. The steel’s been expanding all day, inching through thermal shifts no one sees. I used to panic about that. Now I just listen. Sometimes the structure doesn’t need fixing. It just needs someone to hear it.