Agelessly encountering the past through thoughts while driving, letting my pallet of random images glaze over my eyes as I drove through familiar streets. One goes into auto pilot after the 20th time of driving a strip, this had to be close to somewhere in the 500s.
Catching a glimpse of a passing cyclist, messenger bag slung heavily at his side, his face with hopes of growing some kind of facial hair, caught my attention. Bringing some cruelly lined image from the past, my gut split into that horrid 'rock' feeling immediately. My intentions that harbored almost to doing were: to stop, knock him off his bike, and smack him one. The other route would be to causally enter the establishment he was in and ignore him completely, but to make my presence known. Neither of which happened but played in my mind as happy twisted thoughts of the past. This failed to compare to the life I now lead, and indeed to have him intrude upon this area of my life as a stranger when the horrid stain of his presence still haunts my past, was unthinkable and yet probably unavoidable. It made me wonder about things that I had no control over for a second. And in another I was back to thinking that everything happens for a reason, happy or otherwise.
Still the thought of him falling off his bike is one of entertainment, but not one filled with hopes of him getting hurt.
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