Riding Blind

She straddles the bike in her black leathers. Her helmet obscures a face once pretty; the booze and the drugs having etched their various brands in her skin. She cranks the throttle, revs a few times just to piss off the neighbours then pulls out of the drive. She hits the motorway and settles in for the long ride down the coast. The weather looks ominous with a storm banking out to the west. There's no going back. No point going back at all. Life here is done and has been for a while.

The bike thrums between her legs, and offers a false sense of bravado. On wheels, she feels invincible. The space in her head fills as she rides. She knows where she's headed but isn't sure if its where she belongs. It's been nearly ten years since she visited the place and can only imagine much has changed in that time. For her, an entire life has been lived and for the most part, lost as well since then.

She rides for nearly three hours before she spies the old weathered sign advertising the small town up ahead. She motors into the town, aware of the turning heads as she pulls up outside a small cafe. The bike's engine dies, introducing a welcome silence. She swings her leg over the seat and stands, unfastening the helmet, pulling it from her head. A swirl of dark hair unravels as she shakes her head. She hooks the helmet over her fingers and then saunters inside for a drink.