Every last scathing, gurgling sound I ever made regarding the aesthetic appeal of bicycle helmuts.
I was flopped under the tracks in LynValley, doing my fish out of water impression. It was the intermission segment of my morning bike ride. And someone’s walking through the tunnel. Sit up, breathe normal, bright smile, and “Mornin’!”
Greeting returned as he rounds the corner.
And he’s not stopping.
No 5 hours trapped, eyes glazed and brain threatening to spill out my ears in a last ditch attempt to escape.
A guy who’ll call me 15 times in a day, ‘just wanting to say hi.’ Who still stops by WfW once a month to visit, even though I haven’t worked there in over 2 years. The last time I ran into him was at K’s opening @ KOR Galleries. 45 minutes of sordid MS Access tales, with his own friends trying to drag him away, My date left me for dead.
He didn’t even make eye contact.
As if… he didn’t recognize me?
I luff my helmut, every last dorky, blunted inch of it.