I saw you come zooming
around the corner in your older, white pickup truck, just as I was starting to cross the street on my bicycle. Startled, I had to move very quickly to keep from being run over, while you and your friend laughed. I was already having a bad day, and perhaps I shouldn’t have done it, but as I laughed back sarcastically, I gave you the one-finger wave. You pulled over and, loudly yelling, threatened to “get me.” I rode on fast, without looking back, but I heard the roar as you turned your truck around.
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