Fiction under 250 words
It wasn’t as if that would happen to me. If anything, I’m overly cautious and NEVER drive over the speed limit, much to the annoyance of the other drivers.
I tossed my keys onto the kitchen counter and walked over to the hallway mirror. I studied my eyes through the Plexiglas visor of the motorcycle helmet. The usually light brown eyes were almost black with anxiety.
It had been a beautiful day – sunny and warm. And yet, I passed two motorcycle accidents; one looked serious. Were people being careless? Were people so happy to be out and about on an unusually warm day in January that they forgot to be cautious?
I shivered and pulled off my riding gloves. I hated driving on city streets. People were oblivious enough without having to pay attention to small moving objects zooming past them at high speeds.
My family hated the fact that I rode a motorcycle. They didn’t understand the exhilaration, the sense of freedom, the sheer beauty of riding that close to nature. It was exciting to feel the air rush past my face; it was somehow comforting to feel my clothes plaster themselves against my skin.
This sense of freedom, however, did come at a cost, especially to careless riders.
I reached up and tugged off my helmet. I ran a hand through my short hair, trying to calm the static electricity.
Two accidents in one ride, maybe it was time to call it a day.