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Kissing Bridge ( Short Story )

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- Oh come on… I sighed.
- No, you come on! My husband was already a few steps on the bridge.

My feet were killing me. Really. We had taken a cheap trip to Rome, Italy, for three days. We love city holidays and love to walk as much as we can to see as much as we can.

Only this time my feet were telling me they had seen quite enough for the day, thankyouverymuch. All I wanted to do was to flop on a cafeteria chair and ask the waiter to bring me the list. And there my husband was at it again - striding eagerly toward the opposite shore. Crossing the river Tiber. Again. This must have been bridge number seven. When ever he saw a bridge, over he went.


I mean Tiber is no great sight. It just flows there way below the street level (well, at least now it was well below the embankment), there are no restaurants overlooking the river, and quite frankly I had seen the plastic bags and other garbage hanging from the tree brances hanging low over the river - probably brought there by some flood - and from the looks of them most of the garbage had been there for ever. No one seemed to be interested in cleaning them away. Rome wasn´t the cleanest of places…

Well, it didn´t seem to stop my husbands enthusiasm to cross the river. So I just had to follow if I did not want to remain standing there. Tiredly I walked after him, holding my umbrella (it was spring so there were occasional showers). After a while he stopped and turned to wait for me. When I got to where he was standing, he gave me a kiss, much to the amusement of the passers-by.

- Why do you want to go over all these bridges? I asked.

In answer he kissed me again.

- I asked you why…

Another kiss.

- Why…

A kiss again.

And then I got it.

We had been together since we were eighteen - over twenty years already. And almost at the very beginning had started a habit our friends thought rather amusing. Neither one of us rememebers anymore why we started it. But in short: when ever we walk over a bridge, in the middle of it we give each other a little kiss. We called it "bridge kiss", of course.

My husband was grinning like a little boy.

- I like this city! he said, - Lots of good kissing bridges around! Look! There´s one more down the river!

I looked. Yes. A new bridge, again.

- Lets go! He waved his hand and turned to continue walking.

And this time my feet felt light as feathers when I headed for the next kissing bridge.

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