It was high summer, and the girl lay in the middle of the bridge without a care. Her back was aligned with the double yellow stripe running down the middle of the road.

She had always wondered at the origin of the stripes. Who painted those on, anyway? How does one become a road-stripe-painter? She thought they must have had low standards, for the line was straying drunkenly to one side or the other every so often before straightening out again, as the locals did, and always had done.

Fireflies floated through the air, lighting themselves briefly against the dark and making easy targets of themselves among the trees. This time she was uninterested in catching them, just as they must have been uninterested in the stripes on the road.

The stars were bright, if not so bright as the green glow of the lightning bugs. She stared up at the sky, with her arms pillowing her head against the hard concrete. The rush of water spilling over the dam roared in her ears. Every so often, the night sounds of creek and wildlife were supplemented by others, more foreign.

The crush of rocks under the feet of the two ill-advised men beneath the bridge was audible occasionally, though their whispers were carried away by the murmur of running water as they discussed how best to locate water moccasins in the dark. The girl felt this to be a rather stupid venture, but she kept her silence.

And every few minutes, the girl heard shouts of laughter and dismay from the south side of the creek. At each uprising in volume, the girl knew that the country boy and his friend had lighted another round of roman candles, and more than likely produced a new crop of burns.

The girl heard the far-off shudder of helicopter blades, and knew someone had been hurt. The area, she knew, was too remote for any aircraft but life flight.

The low whirr of a car's engine, combined with the soft diluted wash of headlights as it turned the corner forced the girl from her reverie. She stood, with a disgruntled glance at the car, and walked to the side of the bridge, tossing her head to clear the hair from her eyes in annoyance. When the car had receded, the girl lay down in the road again, and let the clear smell of summer envelop her again.