This morning, I woke up to a rude jolt. I climb down the stairs and find that my cycle is not in its place. Its stolen!
Did I lose it or was it stolen from me? It used to be my friend in the weekends when I would ride to the parks or simply roam aimlessly. The cool breeze that caressed me as I rode it, the thrills and the high it gave me can't be described easily.Every speed breaker, every bend and turn, every shift of gear, to cut this short, every moment of pride and joy it gave me lies shattered now. Only memories remain.
I still remember the day when I went with my friends to get the cycle. The journey back home and the first ride stand out clearly now as if to torment and accentuate the loss. When friends at work tried it out, it pleased me no end...some good memories recorded here.
Why do people stoop to such low levels? What can the rightful owner (like me) do other than moan the loss and lament about the helplessness of it? Perhaps this is destiny and perhaps I should be moving on but it would be an injustice not to record it here in this journal as a post worth the blog space!