Biking Through The End Of Days
“The man put the boy on the handlebars of the bicycle.
It had once been blue. Streaks of cerulean remained in the spectral lines of dulled gray aluminum. It was heavy and his leg ached as he pedaled.
Who used to ride this bicycle, Papa?
No one person rode this bicycle. The bike was shared by everyone who could pay.
Did the people who shared the bikes carry the fire?
They thought they carried the fire.”