The world was all scribbles of inky blackness, at least in this little corner. Flashes of white and gray shone in between. As her eyes adjusted, she could see that the long arch ahead was a bridge. At the tangle near the bottom was the base, where the river bank was.
Because she felt lighter than usual, as though her tangle were unfurling, she made her way there, to see better.
Within the tangle at the base of the bridge support, once she looked, she could see other pockets of lighter colors. Stones tumbled from the pale gray dirt to lean up against the concrete wall. Another tangle of blues and blacks and grays and greens and a faint other color sat on the stone.
Because she was curious, she walked even closer.
The tangle on the rocks was a person. Long legs and arms covered in clothing that was still inky, but maybe colors. Jeans on the legs and green and gray sleeves on arms long for holding things. The person was looking away so she thought the tangle on top was hair. A curly mop of perhaps brown, perhaps red.
Because the shoulders were slumped, she walked even closer.
The curly tangle of hair was definitely red, although hard to see in the shadows. Under the bridge, her steps made a quiet echoing sound in the dirt and gravel around her. The person looked up and was a man with quiet guarded eyes. The eyes watched her, and then, softened. His shoulders were still slumped, but not at all imposing. Perhaps tired, or sad.
Because she wanted a friend, she stepped under the bridge beside him.
“Hello,” she said. “Can I have a hug?” And the man’s arms opened and she stepped into the inky tangle which lit up with warmth and light.