The Uphill Slide

There is always something.



Gabriel’s  seesaw knees drove him into the curvy snaky chilly fingers of the mist. He felt the spritz of tiny seed pearls over his limey spandex. His arms stretched out as the wings of the condor, and his upturned face stared into the grey-white nothingness. The 280º pull of the road spun his tires faster and faster as his unseeing eyes stared into the gauzy sky. Swifter…swifter…swifter into the underworld of grime and oil and rubber and metal.

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