A warm wind blows across my face and up the sleeves of my jacket. Like a painting orange and yellow and brown are all around me. The leaves crunch and crackle as my wheels plow over them. The sun dapples in and out rushing past in a blur. My sunglasses filter their epileptic fits.
A light musty smell. Then smoke from a nearby fire in someone’s backyard.
I count helmets—one, two…I quicken my pace.
Three. All there. Their shouts echo up through the trees. I press the shutter in my memory. Keep this November day forever.
Image credit: Dundee Photographics / freedigitalphotos.net
I love the powerful words you used in this microstory! You are getting good at this!