I spent hours inside fog—literal fog, and the kind that settles in your head when nothing is working. I crossed the bridge and found only drizzle, then kept driving through rain and doubt until I finally turned back and crossed again.
For one brief moment, the world opened. The fog, which had hidden everything all morning, suddenly gave the bridge back—held in a quiet, unreal stillness. Nothing was moving but the fog itself.
What stays with me about this moment is how close I was to missing it.
