Ride [upd] - Xev Bellringer

Then the door opens.

Afterward, I trace the scars on his knuckles—old ones, from his father’s house. He traces the road rash on my hip—new, from a fall I took practicing alone last fall. xev bellringer ride

“You rode the Bonneville,” he says finally. Not a question. Then the door opens

The key was in the ignition. Of course it was. He always left things ready for a quick exit. Then the door opens. Afterward

“It wasn’t stupid.”

Then the door opens.

Afterward, I trace the scars on his knuckles—old ones, from his father’s house. He traces the road rash on my hip—new, from a fall I took practicing alone last fall.

“You rode the Bonneville,” he says finally. Not a question.

The key was in the ignition. Of course it was. He always left things ready for a quick exit.

“It wasn’t stupid.”