The narrow rock shelf I'm lying on doesn't give me much else to look at, other than the crumbled remains of the significantly narrower bike trail abov....I suppose I'm better off than my bike. It's somewhere down there. I might be able to see it, if I could move. Things are broken, that's for sure. I can't even pinpoint what, because the one time I was stupid enough to try to shift position, the mind-numbing agony made me wish I'd followed my bike.One last ride. That's what I told her. Guess I. When she arched her lips in a half smile, I felt relieved then heard my phone beep. "You ass!" she had written."I'm sorry, it was too easy to pass on," I responded and I inserted a winking smiley face. I might live to regret that joke's impulse, but at least we were OK now.After lunch, it was the boys turn for cleaning up, so we moved away from the table. She walked to our swing couch and sat there, taking a grip from the floor then lifting her legs up as the swing began moving back and forth.. More

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