By Cheyenne Shrader
She felt the muscles in her thighs tense as her heels pushed down and back and down and back propelling her bike forward. Each pedal pushing away the bullshit. The only sounds to be heard were the chirping of crickets, the occasional croak of frogs and the steady mechanical sound of her bike pedaling on. As she glided down those empty streets, towards nothing in particular, she noticed the brightness of the moon and the way its gleam reflected onto the ceramic tile roofs. The glow gently brushing across each roof top as she passed by the houses. With each house she passed she wondered where she was going. None of this looked familiar and she couldn’t remember how long she had been going this way or what made her start in the first place. But she knew she was supposed to go this way. The feeling wasn’t strong, and she doubted its existence, questioned its meaning, and couldn’t decide if it was wise to continue to follow it. Yet it was a subtle enough pull to keep her pedaling forward.
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