Bike Drive: A Short Story

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I have about 15 more minutes. The instruction manual made that clear. I finally find the door and throw it open to blackness. Toes smashing into glass, hips banging against wood, but palm is craving metal. Come on, I know it’s here. Fingers rifle through brain that has never felt this hollow, cobwebbed filing cabinet. Left? Right? I know it is hanging from the ceiling. I’m turning around for a flashlight when the cord dangles right into my hand. “Aha!” I can’t help but shout as I yank the metal loop. My eyes instantly squeeze closed as the fluorescent shine pools through the narrow room. I know all the steps. Plug in the device, that glittering thing on my wrist. Get the PLHD up and running. Download history. Upload new input. Upload him. The way he smiled at me with that one crooked front…show more content…
The mouse wheel flies through files, skimming three dash codes to my past. Fifth birthday party. That one sweater with the dog. The time I fell roller-skating and tore my knees. Job interview with the firm. Bike ride. Cocktail party. Fish. All date labelled and sealed in carefully encrypted files. My life twice backed up and secure. But where is today? I expected the storage to make it easier, but the filing made holes. Things have started to slip, and I can’t quite gather them up again. The exact sound of his voice shakes; the words themselves have been gone awhile. The clearest picture is black t shirt, band logo faded beyond recognition. Or maybe just beyond mine. I find July 3rd. Enter memories, triggers for recall. He was tall. I had to look up to catch those eyes, those grey eyes. His hair as wavy or curly or maybe straight and the wind had caught it and ruffled it like a hand. He laughed. Or grimaced? There was water and noise and light. The words flow like the sound of the river, their pace like the ticking of keys. My fingers fall away from the keyboard like his hand fell away from my cheek. Like he fell
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