150 words about 41 miles
I came out of town, solo, north past the gym that advertises church services on Sunday mornings, past the tattoo shop, up the gentle little rise to the spreading chestnut at the library, the point where one morning Paul ratcheted and ratcheted and ratcheted the pace until I, even though I was second wheel, I pulled off, frustrated, disappointed. The pavement so smooth it’s almost buttery, fresh pavement that three weeks ago had been scraped and milled and so obviously painful none of us mentioned it. Even alone it was as if I was in a group with every rider I’d shared that road with, Tim pointing out the dog who reflexively chases, Russell the plumber, Shawn the programmer. They’re all there, here, now, then, with me, apart from me, a part of me, until I turn onto a new road, new to me, void of memories, and I’m alone.