I fell in love with Dan instantly; the broad shoulders, the dark eyes, the glistening chrome, the throaty rumble of his exhaust. My mother wasn’t so keen.
“It’s not safe,” she insisted.
“It’s not the bike you hate, it’s Dan,” I accused, grabbing my leather jacket and rushing out into the delicate spring warmth where my knight was waiting on his trusty steed.
My mother, trapped inside, watched helplessly as I swung my leg defiantly over the seat and wrapped my arms around his leather-skinned back, pressing my body against his.
Long summer days were spent in ecstatic flights of pleasure. We swept into bends and launched down straights, flying through our dreams together. I wanted to ride forever…
“Dan’s here,” my mother called up.
I pulled on an extra jumper and wrapped a scarf around my neck to keep back the nibbling teeth of autumn.
When I went down my mother was smiling. I opened the door and looked out. Dan was there. Alone.
“I sold it,” he said, “and bought this.”
He held out a small red box. The diamond inside winked knowingly at me. I shook my head. The ride was over.
Want more? Read Shelley’s story
Nah, time for Poetry
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