This is what happened: The Fall at 20:55

He itches to practice. He cannot. His mother is on the phone. He decides to go for a bike ride.

He goes into the garage. He puts on his gloves, his helmet. He clips on his lights and sets them flashing. He wheels the bike out to the driveway. He kicks off.

He pushes steadily up an incline. He is not yet breathing hard. He contemplates the darkened western sky. He wonders if it's dark enough to need the lights.

He climbs for a mile. He feels his thighs burn. He shifts down yet another gear. He is going more slowly.

He contemplates blog entries he has just read. He contemplates how little he updates his blog. He contemplates writing an entry tonight.

He sees a bike path on the left. He needs to turn left.

He is certain of the turn he needs to make ahead. He doesn't know where this bike path goes.

He keeps going.

He doesn't miss out on opportunities. He turns around.

He sees Girl cyclist before he sees Guy cyclist coming out of the path. He decides to circle around them because they are barely moving. They comply and take the inside turn.

He speeds up to circle around them. He sees the dust and gravel too late.

He turns; he is going too quickly. His wheels begin to slide. He doesn't know what to do.

He brakes. He made it worse.

He is tipped too far over. He falls. His wrist breaks his fall. He feels his glove sanding the floor. He is down. His bike continues without him.

He fumes.

Guy cyclist calls if he is okay. He says nothing. Girl cyclist calls if he is okay. He says he is. Guy cyclist asks if he is sure.

He says he is sure. He says, that is what the gloves are for.

He picks up his bike. He notices the chain has fallen off the chain rings. He flips his bike upside down and puts it back on.

His fingers are dirty. He gets back on the bike. He dirties his white bar tape. His handlebars are knocked off center. He contemplates whether or not he needs his tools to fix it. He holds the wheel and bangs it back into position. He doesn't need his tools.

He sets off again. He sees the bike trail end shortly. He sees the familiar road he was planning to turn on. He wasted his time.

He flies along the flat road. He is passed by other cars. He tastes something salty in the corner of his mouth. He doesn't think about it.

He flies downhill. He lets gravity do the work. He sees a flashing fire truck in front of him. He braces to be assaulted by the horn. He notices there is no sound. He passes it, silent, except for the engine.

He turns up his driveway. He gets off. He wheels his bike into the garage. He takes off his helmet. He takes off his gloves. He turns off the lights.

He turns on the shower. He stretches. He begins composing his blog post in his mind. He doesn't post it.