“They are not following us.”
We veered.
Took turns to lead. Slowed down at unique buildings. Felt safe to express, recall, or forget. Between the three close friends that was casual, natural, and almost magical. When HY, JR, and I cycled through the alleys in early-March-afternoon sunshine, a gusto in simple stillness surrounded as something we couldn’t ask for. “You feel the breeze?”
Upon joining the rest of our friends who instead went down the main streets, CL came up to ask me whether I was riding my own bike and suggested rechecking the lock. I felt cared, if not belonged. Although the air did freeze in apparent awkwardness, I laughed it off, for we’ll all be gone before long. After goodbyes, my solitude fell adrift through unfamiliar neighborhoods in and of a city that I call home.
You feel the breeze? It’s got some hold on me: not the routes nor the places, but being us on our sideway.