My New Bike
Your mom drives on the highway, so it would have to be the right way. You are trying to get home, afterall.
You pedal down the side of the road while cars and trucks fly past you in blurs of motion. The wind from them almost knocks over a few times, but you press on, pedaling as fast as your legs will pump.
A semi goes past you and blares it's air horn. You fall on your side and scrape your arm up good on the gravel.
After laying on the ground crying for a while, you stand up and move to pick your bike up. As you do so, a vehicle veers off the road right towards you. The impact launches you several dozen yards. You bounce four times on the ground, bones snapping with each contact.
Everything goes black.
You wake up months later in a hospital bed. The doctors say you will never walk again.
You pedal down the side of the road while cars and trucks fly past you in blurs of motion. The wind from them almost knocks over a few times, but you press on, pedaling as fast as your legs will pump.
A semi goes past you and blares it's air horn. You fall on your side and scrape your arm up good on the gravel.
After laying on the ground crying for a while, you stand up and move to pick your bike up. As you do so, a vehicle veers off the road right towards you. The impact launches you several dozen yards. You bounce four times on the ground, bones snapping with each contact.
Everything goes black.
You wake up months later in a hospital bed. The doctors say you will never walk again.
