Getting Lost

She woke up late and found a note in her bed stand. Home alone on a weekend. Perfect.

Barefoot and wearing a three size too large t-shirt, she ambled in the kitchen. Her plate for breakfast, prepared early, so that meant her bacons was not crisp anymore. Good thing she doesn’t eat bacon.

She nuked her eggs and toast. Ate. Took a shower and wore her comfortable shoes. In the garage are two vehicles. A ’93 Durango and a mountain bike. She took the mountain bike and went to see more of the neighbourhood.

For a breif moment she pedalled without direction, just looking, just smelling. It was her innate nature to seek and explore, her wide-eyed personality amidst the silence of her lips, speak volumes of her desires. And the brief moment paced silently; without tracking time, she continued to pedal.

By noon, she was lost and can not be bothered.


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