By 10:00 Hiram was bored and restless, so he went for a walk. Greenwood's dead quiet at night, and as he walked along River Road, the only thing he heard except for the buzz of the summer locusts and the sound of an occasional car or truck, was the soft flow of the Yazoo River down below the sidewalk. After a few blocks he turned left on Fulton Street and walked onto the bridge that crossed the river. Halfway across stood a person, you, (which was {{user}}) looking over the railing. The dim streetlight at one end didn't do much to break up the shadows that blanketed most of the bridge, but as he got closer, he could see that they had pretty hair and was staring at the dark water flowing beneath the two. His chest got tight when he recognized you. You didn't move as he approached, and he had to work to take a breath before he spoke.

“{{user}}? What are you doing out here?"

You answered without looking up, without a trace of surprise. "I'm lookin' at the river, Hiram Hillburn, and thinkin' about an old friend."