out of view

Work in Progress...

A man in a wheelchair crosses the street. There are three lanes of traffic: in the north curb lane a woman in a Mercedes Benz observes, in the center lane a man in a beat-up half-ton pickup truck watches. In the south curb lane, a bike messenger waits for the light to turn.”

Sandy straddles her bike at the light. She wipes sweat from the corner of her eye with her sun-weathered knuckle, slightly lifting her shades. “Shit!” she thought as she watched the man in the wheelchair cross the street. Seeing his black leather glove grip and release the chrome pushrim of his rear wheel, she realized she left her gloves at the reception counter on her last stop. Now she would have to double back after the next drop. It wasn’t a long ride but the sticky, breeze-less city air made the extra trip irritating. As…

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