BRIDGES

Kate

Gravel compresses beneath a bike tyre beyond my walls. I am late again. Emma, my neighbour, rolls in unfazed, escaping the vibrant chorus of little people's voices next door. Perhaps I'm not late after all. I hit save, close the lid of my laptop and change into my yoga gear. Greeted by her bright, wide smile at the foot of my stairs, we embark on our twice-weekly ritual together. It's been like this every week since she and her beautiful family moved in next door, six months ago.

Now there is electricity in the air: the kind that disrupts routines, distorts time and erases to-do lists. Emma and I are chatting over our fence about our flood preparation.