They stood around looking ridiculous in their blue and grey jumpsuits. The little centre at one end of the bridge allowed them to change and pay for their tickets. Luckily they'd picked an unpopular day during lunch time so the tour wasn't fully booked out. Their group of six was joined by eight others, some looked like they knew each other, others came alone.
Florence was falling apart on the inside. She was lucky they weren't climbing at night, in a forest with a bunch of cockroaches crawling all over her or else she might have passed out. She wasn't always afraid of heights, it came upon because she always seemed to be amongst people who were scared. It transferred to her like a disease.
Her eyes wandered over the others who all seemed to be comfortable. Oliver was picking at his fingernails which could have been a nervous habit or maybe he was just bored.
They had basically signed away their lives over two pages of paperwork which worried Florence even more, even though the tour was perfectly safe. The tour guides were now all harnessed up and came back to help the bridge climbers. They had to climb a total of 1332 stairs meaning Florence could skip the gym for the next two years.
One guide lead from the front of the group while the other followed from behind. They climbed in one long line, Florence followed Ophelia with Harry and Cassiel behind her, at the back of the pack.
"They're good at thinking of ways to make money, huh." Harry said from behind her.
Florence nodded without looking back for fear of missing a step and falling to her death, even though she was clipped to the bridge in multiple places. "We make money off old things, using them in ways they were never meant to be used."
Harry didn't say anything, letting the words flow through the channels of his brain. Everything Florence said seemed to be impactful and he desperately wanted to hear all of her thoughts and desires. Only Florence knew the language in which her mind talked.
They were approaching the peak of the bridge, walking horizontally now on a little upwards slope. Florence wondered if the decline would be scarier, they would be going down backwards. Definitely scarier.
The ocean was beautiful and the sun bounced off it when Florence finally dared to look around her. Harry had his forearms resting on a beam that acted like a handrail and was looking out at the place where the sky met the sea. He imagined how beautiful it would be during sunrise, where you could watch the new day climbing over the horizon line.
From where they stood they could see the opera house along with dozens of sky scrapers. The way the ocean met the man made concrete cities amazed Florence. How had they had all of these ideas? The opera house curved in weird ways and it looked like it was floating on the water. Florence had never been inside of it; she wasn't big on theatre, besides it seemed far too pretentious. It was more of a place for Astoria, who had been inside more times than she could count on her fingers. Her father knew the managers, like usual.
"Look that way." Harry spoke to Florence while pointing towards the clouds on the other side. Florence frowned before turning her body so that it was facing the way Harry wanted. He silently took a little picture of her with her arms out, desperate to keep her balance even though she would never fall.
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