PHOTO PROMPT © Jellico’s Stationhouse
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For 63 mornings I’ve mounted this bike on an eastward journey toward the Outer Banks. If you’d asked me last year if I’d even consider this, I’d have laughed.
I’ve been the recipient of unexpected good: People willing to feed me, give me a place to sleep, or help repair my tires.
Ahead, the Wright Memorial Bridge intimidates, but it’s the last trek. A car honks, someone gives me the finger. I pedal faster as if I can smell the sea.
All the while Devon’s spirit guides me. His final words echo: I dare you, Sis.