這是媽媽十九歲時作的。 On the Footbridge Night was coming, and the sky was dyed dark purple. It was time for dinner, and people were going home, with hurrying steps and eager hearts. She was walking alone on the footbridge. It was a familiar footbridge. She used to walk past this footbridge to the railway station everyday when she was studying. And now, she walked past this footbridge everyday, too, to the bus-stop where she could find a bus which carried her to the firm in which she was working. And, of course, she walked past this footbridge whenever she was coming back home, from school, as well as the firm. The heels of her shoes made a repeating, monotonic complaint against the ground. Her legs were moving, though rather reluctantly in mechanical pattern. But ...