The Bridge
It is November 2068, Mr. Davenport just arrived in a small town. He came to visit his cousin Jacobson. It was a long flight. He was weary, no, he felt exhausted.
He told the driver to drop him off at the gates of Jacobson's vast property.
He rang the doorbell. No one came to meet him.
He rang the doorbell at least more than 20 times. Nothing.
He saw that the iron gates were not locked. He opened it. He went inside while carrying his luggage. Then he saw the Manor. The last he had seen it was 10 years ago.
Then, he saw the solid bridge. He thought to himself everything seems to be alright. Then, he wondered where could his cousin be?
He went straight to the doorstep. Then, he knocked. And, he called out his cousin's name.
He patiently waited.
After what seemed like eternity Jacobson opened the door.
Oh, Richardson, it is you!!
How are we today? he added. And he exclaimed it has been a long time. You aged a bit cuz...
Richardson replied, so did you!
What brought you here?
I have to take pictures of the bridge. Our other relatives want to include them in the family museum. Grandpa built that bridge. And it has withstood the test of times. The good times and the bad. It is his legacy.
Jacobson nodded. He uttered yeah Grandpa Jacob sure was one for the record books.
He built things to last for eternity.
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