The air is musky and golden.
I peddle into the shining brass of evening, my feet pumping, my legs straining their new muscles against the cold metal of my bike, shimmering against the crossbar. Mud has dried in places against my calves, pieces of greenery flailing against the wind I have generated.
Against my skin, my growling aging self the air leaves a trail, the last of a late summer day, the warmth simmered to a dull glimmer against me. I pull my bike to a stop behind the old RCA building, and just stop.
There is nothing but the breeze in my ears, the sigh of trees heavy with sun and rain, the sleepy cries of robins, the settling of a day. I fall completely into myself, present in this second. The world incandescent.
Right then, in that smoldering light, everything made every bit of sense. The planet shifted and stood, ever so briefly, a little bit straighter, a little more fair.
Until the sun collapsed into tomorrow, and I set my feet back to pedals.