Movement

We rode our bikes while the world moved under us. Out the driveway and down the road, until the asphalt turned to gravel turned to dirt. Out past Mrs. Murphy’s old barn and then took a hard right onto a small trail cut jagged into the hillside and down. Tall grasses whipped at out arms and cheeks as we pedal with increasing speed. The last leg is straight and steep and we come into it hunched down over the handlebars and legs pumping until it feels like the bike can’t go any faster. Then we hit the flat and then the mound and we are vaulted into the air. Time slows, our bikes fall away from us and for that brief second before we fall into the water we are free.

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