Just outside the Milltop is the City Gate, twin 15 ft high, square towers with enough space between them for three people abreast to comfortably walk through or a common size wagon or buggy be easily pulled through by a horse or burro.
The gate is made of coquina, like so much of the city. The native sedimentary stone is derived from nature’s compacting billions of crushed shells, many the tiny coquina clams. Bright yellow-gold in when first mined, the stone turns grey over the centuries. It is the only native stone; it is easily mined and shaped, so it is widely used and has been for centuries.
Amy walked over to the gate and stood first looking north, out of the city, then turned around and looked down deep into the city, fading in the dusk.
She heard her own voice, just over her shoulder. She heard herself talking to Sue. The conversation was familiar. The voice was from a past life and as real as if it were real.
Sue had been Amy’s roommate and closest friend during the college years. As Amy tried to write poetry, Sue tried to write stories. Together they shared a desire to tell others what they saw and much of what they saw was St. Augustine.
Amy turned around knowing she would not be surprised if Sue were standing there. She thought she would not be surprised if she saw herself and Sue as they were that night when they sat there and had the conversation.