Nooo!!

The car screeches to a halt, fraction of an inch from his Woom.

I can’t breath, my knees smash the asphalt viciously. They don’t hurt, the crazy thump under my ribs is stabbing my eardrums.

“You STUPID KID!”

The punk behind the wheel blasts off his mouth, his fist shaking at my own, my flesh on the Woom. The driver is young, barely escaped his teens, looks like. And quite handsome. But I hate him now. Was he ever a child? Never made a mistake on his bike? Perhaps he never rode one. Not like mine, he can do wheelies, bunny hops. The works. My heart’s pounding my ears again, but it’s pure rage now.

The car screams off. He looks at me straight, dark eyes melting with unearned guilt, scared, a tear wobbling at the rim of his eye, and he dismounts from his bike. He quickly gathers the flowers scattered next to him on the pavement, flowers he had deftly clutched in one fist.  I just want to hug him and let him know it’s fine, calm his abused nerves. But I’m still on the asphalt. My knees still don’t hurt.

I start running, but he is gone. That’s him, always one with his Woom. I know where he is going. The cemetery is peaceful and rests under endless blue. He is there, by his favourite tomb stone, the cross still gleaming in its paint. I tip toe up to him and kneel gently next to him. He rests his head gently against my chest, his tiny shoulder heaving as he sobs. We hold each other.

“I miss you mum.”

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