Story link: 'Hungerford Bridge' -- Elizabeth Hand

Hungerford Bridge, by Elizabeth Hand

We walked across Hungerford Bridge in the intermittent rain, skirting puddles and pockets of slush. Below us the Thames reflected empty, parchment-colored sky. When I looked back across the water, the buildings on the opposite bank seemed etched upon a vast blank scroll, a barge’s wake providing a single ink stroke. Gulls wheeled and screamed. The air smelled of petrol, and snow.

A quiet, still story, evocative of London in the snow and of hidden mystery and loss. In other hands ('scuse pun) this would be trivial, a vignette: Hand weaves so much backstory and emotional resonance into the tale, showing not telling.