As he rode his bike down the gently sloping hill
it teetered slightly. The sun dappled the asphalt
where there were no trees, and he could feel its
warmth in the very marrow of his bones. His feet
pumped pedals eagerly, so much so that his
calves ached. But a shadow shifted as a cloud
concealed the sunlight, and the boy’s bike
wobbled precariously before hitting the ground.
It was rough like the grainy fabrics of the sheets
and the sky blue gowns. The pedals constricted
his ankles, his entire frame ached. As he laid on
the overcast path, he knew he was naive to think
it was over.