We were on an abandoned suspension bridge. The cables stretched out far and wide. Mist clung around the bridge, obstructing our view. I could feel moist air pushing gently against me.
"How did we... get here?" The journalist asked.
No one answered or responded to him. We continued our journey. Everything felt haunted. I shivered. There was this noise behind everything, shrill and high. The city was singing. It was happy, and yet forlorn. Saddened. It wanted to keep playing with us, but-
The singing stopped. We kept walking.
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