caught dead wearing something like that. But I can see the functionality of it. I wonder how these fashions even come to be. I mean, how do they just change from generation to generation? So crazy, isn't it? And I was thinking, if I lived in this time, if I was one of these people, what color would I wear…"
Sam sighed. Polly had begun talking again, and he knew there was no stopping her now. Inwardly, he tuned her out.
As they walked, Sam scanned all the faces on the bridge, looking for any sign of Caitlin. He kept thinking he saw her, for a second, only to be disappointed. At one point, he saw a girl from behind that looked just like her, and grabbed her shoulder.
“Caitlin!” he exclaimed.
But the girl turned, and he was embarrassed to realize it wasn’t her; she gave him an odd look and walked away.
Soon they were over the bridge, standing on land, and Sam spotted a huge sign which read “Southwark.” He turned right, in the direction of that stadium.
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