The wind is cold as it whips on my cheeks in the frozen March air. Bikes were not meant for forty-degree weather, I concluded, and pushed down harder on the pedals. I had gone halfway there already though, two uphill miles, and turning back wasn’t an option. I turn off onto a little side street that up until recently, I knew nothing about. The little hidden cul-de-sac that would become my one source of happiness over the next few years lay just around the bend. I rode forward in my last attempt to make it to the destination, turning my head to gaze at the pretty yellow house, the second on the left. I looked for a sign of life in the sleepy neighborhood, in the hopeful house that sat in my view. Nothing stirred in the depths, and I heard myself sigh. Scanning the driveway, the yard, the paths surrounding the secluded cluster of homes, I looked for a bike, the one that belonged to someone I knew so well. Not there. I reached down subconsciously and put my hand on my phone, knowing that a call would make everything worse. I biked back and forth in front of the entrance a few times, wondering when my efforts would be rewarded. After half an hour of being foolish in the stubborn cold, I turned around and rode slowly away from the house, which now lay as depressing in my memory. Not ready yet to go home, I moved forwards to a secluded little park that I had only realized in the past few weeks existed. Leaning my bike against a sturdy little light-post guarding the park, I climbed up the little twisted-metal ladder, sighing as I leaned against the frozen metal bars and I closed my eyes. Well, for a few moments I closed my eyes. They snapped open when a rustling noise came out of the woods surrounding my little abandoned haven. I strained my eyes against the still-dark cloud of morning air, and I involuntarily shivered. Another snap of a branch, closer to where I sat then before. I looked hard through the trees against a lightening sky, not able to see anything. Sighing in frustration, I moved back farther into the plastic-covered child’s playhouse, leaning against the thick plastic walls and thinking that at least if it rained, I would be dry. I closed my eyes again. The morning was too early for much thinking. I heard a footstep on the metal ladder leading to where I hid. I pushed myself back farther into the corner, unsure still of who was there, and worried for it. Higher and higher the footstep noises rose, until I knew I would see the face of my pursuer next time the dull ringing came. In a burst, I heard several footfalls, and I knew that they had jumped a few rungs and would come into the house whether I wanted them to or not. I closed my eyes, regaining my composure, and when I opened them again, there he sat, only a foot away from me, hair wild and dark eyes shining. He was grinning.
“Hey,” he said moving closer to give me a hug.
“You came,” I breathed, and smiled, in spite of the cold.