Roxie’s Bike

Roxie loved her bicycle, and raced it whenever she could.

She no longer had anyone to race against – long since becoming faster than all her friends – but still, she pushed herself. Every day, she tried to become a little faster. Rain, shine, even in the snow, she would be out on two wheels, flying down the roads.

She had been doored twice, and nearly hit by a left-turning vehicle. But still she raced against her own time. She sought shorter routes, easier turns, occasionally safer ways of riding. But mostly, she just wanted to do a little better than yesterday.

As she pushed down the road now, though, she knew she wouldn’t do it – the trucks in the way, the man with the stop sign, the construction going on everywhere. She was delayed at every step, and it would be her worst day yet.

But she wasn’t worried. Tomorrow she would be out again, trying a different, looking for a way to get back to speed. And the next day, she would get a little faster than that.

By A Nose

Len, or “Lentariat” to his close friends, stood in the dingy, poorly-lit little bar staring at the screen.

The walls around were dark, somewhere between red and soot-stained black, and the people were similarly grime-encrusted. They smoked, drank, and laughed raucously, as only those in dive bars know how to do.

Len stared at the television above him, part of a small group, and watched as Chaser’s Dream ran on the oval surrounding lawns sweeter than Len was likely to experience any time soon.

Ahead of Chaser’s Dream, the surprise champion – named Horse2285 – was once again winning. But Chaser’s Dream was only two lengths away, and gradually closing in.

Len clutched his ticket, hoping. Around him, others were hoping for Horse 2285, but all of Len’s meagre paycheck was running with Chaser’s Dream. The odds were low, but the payout would be big. Chaser’s Dream moved a few centimetres closer.

The horses rounded the curve, the cluster behind Len’s favourite gradually falling behind, a mass of legs and tails. They didn’t matter. All that mattered were the two front runners, and Len hoped, he prayed, that he would make enough to at least not have to continue paying rent with his credit card.

On the screen, Horse2285 looked like it was faltering. Maybe it tripped. Maybe it was losing steam. Len smiled. Victory, at last. Chaser’s Dream caught up, was right at Horse2285’s flank when the leader suddenly sprang forward again. A feint, a ruse. The distance between the two grew. Horse2285 stumbled again, and Chaser’s Dream sped forward, hoping not to lose the second chance. They both crossed the finish line.

Len waited for the photo finish, but he already knew the answer. He tossed his ticket to the floor, as Horse2285 clearly won by the IF mucus on its nose. Len walked out, heading home to try to do some budget planning for next week’s race.