I looked up at the blue-gray sky. The sun hung high above, the sky was clear, but the earth was cold. Dew on the grass kept the sharp frigidness on my skin. The air was fresh; the taste of wood, dirt, and rain lingered in it. My body felt limp, and the dirt like a muddy blanket. I don't know why I was laying there in this place, but I could see a road up the hill beside me. For a moment, the world flickered into black and white. I stood, moving up towards the road. My red bike laid at the edge. I must have fallen and passed out. Glancing around, I didn't see any injuries. Must have mostly hit my head. I got on my bike and rode towards home. The air chilled me to the bone. There was a nagging pain in my right leg, almost as if something was stuck there. There was nothing I could see there. Probably bruised it. The ride home was quiet. No cars in sight. It was a little eerie, but not completely strange. This place is a ways from the city. Still, something about this left me unsettled. Can't remember what I came out here for. Mom would know. I stopped at the side of the road. Reaching in my pocket for my cell, I only found my house key. I chalked it up to having left it at home. Or rather, I hopefully presume that's what I did. I could have dropped it, but it was too cold to go back. I needed another jacket, and possibly a doctor with how much my head is hurting. The wind kept me company along the way. I expected it to get warmer and the scent in the air to change as the sun rose higher, but the smell of mud and grass and worms hung in my nose. There was something metallic in the mix, something familiar I can't place. As I rode, I waited for the call of a bird--anything to signal it was morning. The sky stayed as it was, still offering me no warmth. The road seemed to go on forever. There were no mailboxes to count, no signs to see. Not a single sound. Only the road, my red bike, and me.
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