In the past several months, Ingrid has asked me a few dozen times for a name for that stretch of skin between her thumb and forefinger. I don’t know one, but I don’t think she believes me. Three days ago, she held hers up and said, This is the bridge of my hand.
The ear—which (Did you notice?) is shaped like Alaska—also has a bridge: that curved rim inside. And the thing under your tongue, too, the thing that holds your tongue down. That’s the bridge of your mouth.