Until Next Time

The last thing I remember is my last words to him, "see ya," ringing in my ears. Such words are used often, taken for nothing more than granted. They are always true, but what if they weren't? This time. What if it was like this time?

In my state of constant, pure remembrance, I will always know my folly. "See ya" was not to be fulfilled. I was such a ridiculous joker! For that blind corner is not a bicyclist's dream, with its sign free existence, but it may be his eternal nightmare. Coming toward it, you feel the relief of not having to slow down, knowing that someone else will. Except that they won't. They see nothing of your slender mode of locomotion, until it is scratching their paint and cracking their windshield.

I can't remember it, but it must have happened. I am here in the dark, and "see ya" still lives in my ears, pounding each time deeper into my brain, trying to force its way back onto my tongue so that I may once again taste my own idiocy. If I had a mouth I would concede. Until I find myself again, until I learn prudence, see ya.