the pavement is dark and cool as the rubber pedals across it, dipping into every bump so that she feels a jolt every single time. she imagines cobblestones accumulating in the distance behind her, the distance embodying everything she has decided to escape, even though she knows she should be concentrating on the road ahead.
she closes her eyes and lets her senses guide her as she pedals and tilts the handlebars slowly. imagination is more vivid when one’s eyes are closed.
a gust of wind brings her mind into the future. she sees it with cloudy tunnel vision; blurred details of figures moving about to the music of silence. they dress like detectives in film noir, with trench coats and top hats, gliding from archway to archway, discarding their cigarettes as they search of their next adventure.
she senses a bend coming on, and concentrates hard to see further into the future. all of a sudden a million possibilities rush to her mind, one by one, branching off into a mosaic of directions. the tree of possibilities guide her to wonder, but only lead to paths she can’t take, and slowly she eliminates all the possible paths created by making the turn.
and as she hits the second before she needs to make the decision, her limbs falter. the left side of her brain signals for her legs to keep pedalling and her arms to remain straight, while the right side signals for her whole body to lean into the turn. they struggle. she falls. the bicycle bounces itself across the road and skids beneath the red light signal, stopping as it encouters the pole, suddenly stationary under the moonlight.
she lays in relief on the asphalt staring up at the sky, replaying the sound of the metal grinding against the ground and dreading the moment she will have to get up and decide if she must go around the bend.