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floating on air and rubber

In by Wyatt on July 21, 2010 at 5:04 pm

He was in the clouds, and it was night. The deep sky framed his form, and the moonlight white mixed with the eerie orange from the factory across the water like a blurry creamsicle. He pedaled furiously. But he wasn’t furious. He was free. He pedaled freely, fast, fantastically. The clouds danced around him. They were low clouds, to be sure, some might even more appropriately call them fog, but that was beside the point — he was blowing through the cool night, sipping on sea air and breathing in life.

Far overhead, a gliding bird peered down at him jealously.

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