My legs and arms twisted around painfully as I rolled, getting caught in random branches.
“Your head. It’s bleeding,” he said slowly,
My legs and arms twisted around painfully as I rolled, getting caught in random branches.
“Your head. It’s bleeding,” he said slowly,
“Well, good evening there, Veronica!” a man’s voice greeted as it passed through the door. He was a fairly old man with a wreath of white hair and a white lab coat to go with it.
Behind his wire framed glasses were deep brown eyes with crinkly laugh lines protruding from the corners.
I said, waving at the gash above my left eyebrow.
Whoa, whoa, whoa. You want me to take a breathalyser test?”
He pressed the needle against the skin on the outer edge of my eyebrow, and I could feel the cold, sharp point threatening to break my skin.
“Ready?” the doctor asked.
I gave a stiff nod.
“You’re lucky my friend knows a thing or two about bikes. That thing–”
“You sold it?” I shrieked. “You sold my Buell 1125CR?”
I woke up to the cold, winter-morning brightness, swathed in three wool blankets and flannel pyjamas. (You know, the flannel p.js with the little bears that look like over-fluffed lambs and the wool blankets with little flowers and hearts stitched in.)
There was no more crispy pie shell filled with the goodness of pumpkin; no pumpkin pie for Pumpkin.
You could hear all the gears shifting and grinding against each others as it slugged from the fifth floor.
I stared at the prison-cell like olive walls.
I froze until I heard the slam of his door, and then I glanced at the clock; three AM.
That was February third, the day they put on my mother’s grave stone. Ten years later, and I still remembered each exact detail of that day.
“When will you ever learn, Ronnie?” Dad asked sorrowfully.
Just then, the cab pulled up in front of us, so we opened our doors and got in. The rest of the way home was completely silent.
But then I collided with the soil and bushes
My rolling eventually stopped,
He crouched down on his knees so his face was level with mine
The shock of the resemblance to the girl in the road made me gasp.
Brendan snapped his fingers in front of my face, and his voice began to come back. “Ronnie? Ronnie, I’m over here. Hello?”
“Oh,” I said, my throat thick.
My eyes opened, but the stars were so thick that I couldn’t see.
trying not to loose his patience,
You want me to take a breathalyser test?”
knees of his favourite green plaid pyjama pants.
“There’s no permanent damage; just a slight concussion. Go home, get some rest, and she’ll be fine in the morning.
“You sold it?” I shrieked. “You sold my Buell 1125CR?”
like a glass filling with water…
and the near constant smell of moff balls.