Chapter Four
A week after my nasty spill in front of the tobacco shop, I have my bike back. Thank the lord—that loaner was a real pain in the butt—seriously a pain in the butt. The seat was all wrong for my personal padding. Having my own personally molded seat under my ass, I seem to float about the city as I ride. Almost feels as though I’m riding three feet in the air. Seeing blue sky and sun above me adds to my euphoria. The air is clean and so is my mind.
For a week, I’ve suffered with my thoughts. With the nagging feeling that something or someone is tugging at me, threatening to drag me into a dark abyss where strange bogeymen lurk. The nameless place badgers me to define it, and I can’t; but I’m sure it smells of leather, and tastes the way the earth tastes at the pregnant apex o
