I loved traveling.
Eating at different restaurants, wearing flannel pants with a chic shirt, and sipping tea in a flower shop straight out of a postcard.
Of course, all of this existed only in my imagination. But that didn’t bother me one bit. Dreams are free, after all.
I knew one day it would all come perfe—
“Oh, for goodness’ sake!” I said, snapping out of my daydream.
My sister giggled, caught in the act of trying to wedge an oversized box into the tiny trunk of her rickety bike. I scowled at her, but she just kept grinning.
“You know perfectly well that box won’t fit.”
“Oh, I know,” she said, as if the thought had just occurred to her. She smoothed down her sundress—a patchwork of mended seams and faded fabric. It was her Sunday best, and even with its wear and tear, she wore it with the same pride as if it were brand-new.
I couldn’t help but smile. My own outfit wasn’t much better—clothes that told their own tales of careful stitching and long years.
“That’s why you’re going to help me get the package across town,” She said with such defiance, declared with the confidence of someone who knew she’d already won the argument.
I rolled my eyes. “And what’s in it for me?”
Her grin widened. “Don’t worry, I packed a snack or two for ya.”
I blushed. She always knew how to twist my arm. With a resigned sigh, I climbed into my own bicycle. The engine sputtered to life, coughing out a puff of smoke.
“I’ll be riding right behind ya!” she called.
I smirked and rode like a professional, sending a playful spray of gravel her way. Through the rearview mirror, I saw her cheeks puffing up as she pedalled after me on that ridiculous contraption of hers. I laughed, easing up so she could catch up.
Her bike was a marvel—a hand-me-down patched together with love and ingenuity. If you pedalled it just right, it could cruise forward without any effort, though she’s the only one who seemed to know its secret.
We took the long way into town, letting the sunlight filter through the trees as we enjoyed the cool breeze. For a moment, it felt like we had all the time in the world.
I let myself drift back into my daydreams, imagining quaint cafés and cobblestone streets.
Then—GBAM!
The sound yanked me from my thoughts. My bike screeched to a halt.
My sister’s bike had veered off, its wheels spinning wildly down the highway. My heart dropped into my stomach as I turned toward the scream—the sound was mine.
I watched, frozen in horror, as my sister’s frail body flew off the road. Her sundress caught the sunlight for a brief, cruel moment before disappearing into the trees.