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Friday, June 25, 2004

He sped down the smoothly paved stretch of road, the end of his coat flapping behind him like the cape of a superhero in an eighties cartoon. His tires squeaked as he rounded a tight corner on two wheels, mostly because that’s how many were on his bike. His destination was home, his goal was sleep. On his right he passed the Hell’s Angels headquarters then a nunnery, on his right, nursery after nursery. Fatigue was nowhere to be found, yet he noticed his pace slowing. The bugs that had been smashing on his forehead earlier were now gone, but now the air was dense with humidity and seemed to cling to him as he sped through it. The hour was late; there were no cars on the road. Hill after hill, corner after corner he pushed and pounded his way through. His mind started to wander, to drift through the events of the day. Things he could have said, things he could have done, the choices that had been made. It all seemed clearer than it had at the time. An unknown type rodent lying on the side of the road brought his attention back to the road as he nearly ran it over. The empty streets welcomed him with their golden pools of light, one melting into the next. Soon the smooth asphalt became cracked and potted from wear, the heavily wooded areas at the roads edge dissolved into buildings. The welcome glow became a harsh glare and the sweet perfume of night developed into the soiled stench of stale grease from all the fast food restaurants now closed. He kept going.

Summary in seven words: Unfinished tale of bike home. Got bored.

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