Driving down the crowded M5, my whole route planned out. The sturdy concrete wall stood a mile or two ahead. I patted my rocket red harly, which supported my fragile body.
I could not change my mind, I cannot change my mind. Left and right my harly swung just missing the scattering leaves. The cold air whipped around my solemn features. Where my helmet ought to be my golden locks fluttered leaving my ear unprotected against the bitter scene about to occur. Autumn, my name bounced around my head as if it were on a space hopper. My mum used to joke about it when I was little:
“Kraig, Kraig look she’s outside”
Then she would point out the window as I sloshed through the early autumn leaves. Tripping and tumbling those autumn days. I sat through primary then secondary taking every day as it came. First Loser, Baby then Idiot, Pratt. My whole life un excepted, not even once. It hit both me and mum hard on the night of my dad’s death. He was not suicidal but he was clumsy in his car and crashed, send me into depression and mum into denial. After that then men started to pile on, one after the other each drunk as the next. Nothing would ever be the same again.
Two corridors, a channel of angry drivers, silently hating the driver in front. BEEP!! A large Honda clipped my wheel I skidded to the side then regained my balance just in time to see him swearing at me through his sound proof window keeping his hate in and my radiating sadness out.
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