KeYboArd.SuRf

he was on his way to work, on his bike. like almost every day – except when it was raining; no use in getting to work completely soaked…
it was cold outside so he was glad he packed his balaclava and put it firmly over his mouth and nose.

everything was fine. the sun was shining, just crept over the horizon, sharing her warmth with his face (that part not covered).

suddenly, while taking a downhill right turn, something seemed to be odd.
“that’s not the way this is supposed to feel…” he heard his mind mutter.

he started to take the right turn, rotating the handlebar a bit and then shifting his weight, letting it drop a bit to the right. a movement that, after years and years of riding a bike, was as natural to him as breathing or walking. but then, something was off. it did not feel right.

the bike toppled to the right side, slamming him onto the ice cold street.

“ah, ice. welcome, my old nemesis, at last we meet again…” he would have thought if he had the time to do so. but the only thing on his mind was: “shiiiiiiiiit!!!”

he had been going downhill, quite fast, so his current momentum was making him slide across the street for some time. “I think I slid for just about 3 seconds, give or take…” he would later reflect when telling people about the accident.

due to immense luck on his part, no cars were coming from either direction. so he was able to, just for a brief fraction of a second – in contrary to the fact that he was currently right in the middle of having an accident – enjoy the feeling of gliding across ice.

moving across ice was always something he had a fascination with. even as a kid he could never resist the urge to run up to frozen over surfaces and then slide over them – which is still true as an adult. somehow the loss of control while still having some control was a feeling he enjoyed having.