She Flew
She longed for the romance of the road. A sexy bike between her thighs. A sexy man, well, also between her thighs.
Her pining was an empty spot in her belly, a visceral ache in her loins. She lay awake tossing and turning. This life, this settled, sedentary, nine to five life, she thought she could manage it, but it was killing her. Slowly but surely it fed on her soul, suckled her joy, chewed on her heart.
She sighed at the sleepless night which lay ahead of her, and the day of monotonous numbers and sagging eyelids beyond it. Why had she given in to this? Why had she settled for a man she never truly loved in a boring ass suburb with a boring ass job?
She sighed again, rolling from the bed and landing feet first on the bedroom floor. She padded barefoot down the hall, through the kitchen and into the garage. It was there, behind the tennis rackets and bicycles and George’s college totes. She felt a sudden urgency as she dug through the mess, liberating herself, along with the motorcycle. She pulled the cover back and at last, there it was.
It was the sexiest thing she had seen in a long time. The custom paint job looked as if it had just been completed, the chrome still glinted and gleamed somehow, in the dim garage light.
She pulled it to the edge of the garage and went back to the pile, digging even deeper into it. In moments she had found her road kit, her saddle bags and her old leather jacket. How could she have thrown them aside? She held them lovingly for a moment before going to work.
In fifteen minutes. she was out the door, pushing the bike silently through the quiet suburban neighborhood. The flickering streetlights vomited a putrid, yellow bile and she longed for a pure, star-filled night sky. The suburbs could even ruin nighttime.
At the edge of the neighborhood she swung a leg carelessly over the seat, started the bike with a roar and flew away. She flew to a place where her belly didn’t ache, and her desires were fulfilled. She flew to a place with no rules, no nine to five, no monotonous numbers and no boring ass husband. She flew beyond the suburbs and the cyanotic streetlamps.
She flew away… never to return. She flew away, finally free.
She flew…
She flew…
She flew…
