I started across the bridge and paused at the crest, looking down at the still water, at my reflection. As my brown eyes met those of my reflection I was taken back, the reflection of my face was the reflection of my life, dull and common. You see, I had spent the whole of my life on my father’s estate, never wondering beyond the green pastures into the small town that lay just north or to the city to the west. In my childhood, my only friends were the horses my father kept in the stables, and my only human contact had been with the aloof estate staff, my strict father, and my temperamental great aunt. And now I stand on the crest of this footbridge considering the eyes of my reflection, looking for answers. Answers as to where my life went, as to how, in a week’s time, I was to be married to a man I had never met. Wondering if I had just ventured into that small town or sprawling city, if anything would be different. Would I still be standing at the crest of this footbridge?