Sunday afternoon, 2:13 PM
Winter... here I stand drenched in the smell of leather worn to remind me of a bygone time. All I can do is stare out the window into a frozen wasteland, wistfully dreaming of days that might have been had I not been born into this vacuous space. My bike and I are grounded, as if being punished for something I/we had no part in. I feel lost, empty... void of will and desire as my bottle sits half empty on the table nearby. My earnest call for help and compassion muted by the glass between me and my dreams. Oh, for the chance to do it again if only the cruel forces of nature would heed my empty cry.
Ya see loco... all ya gotta do is spruce up your text with some creative prose, add a pic or two and ya can turn drivel into an engaging story.
