Some days I head to work early, walking out the door just a few minutes after the sun has risen. My quiet street is even more peaceful than usual, although I can hear the bustle of the cross street nearby. My bike, an Electra Amsterdam, glides down my driveway to the street, its bell rattling a gentle ping as we roll over the cracks in the street. We stop at the corner to watch the cars go by. I’m waiting for a space to join the procession.
I am among them, yet I am not one of them. Continued…
