Everytime I pass the street, my eyes linger on the pedestrian bridge.

It's fairly new.

And wouldn't be there if it wasn't for what happened at the corner.

A woman and her baby, or maybe she was looking after this baby, they were standing, waiting to cross, when a car took a turn too sharp, too fast, too whatever, and the baby was gone.

For months, maybe years after, the street lamp was covered in stuffed animals.

But now there's nothing but my memory of a baby I never met and a bridge I'm glad exists.

I wonder what her name was.

I wonder if anyone thinks about her when they cross the bridge.