21
Grant
Icy wind whipped at my leather jacket as my motorcycle zipped down the narrow side street. My fingers were numb through the thick gloves gripping the bike. My lips were chapped and raw through my helmet, and my lungs ached from breathing in the wintry air.
Yet I throttled the accelerator, leaned into the bike, and pushed it to the max. The hum of the bike and the winds high-pitched whistling were my only companions. I was outrunning my problems as usual. I kicked the bike into overdrive and hit the ground going over a hundred miles an hour. Maybe I could outpace my demons.
Outpace the fact that my world was crumbling about as fast as a demolition team took down a building.
My father was out of jail.
My band was picking up steam at the exact wrong time.
My girl wouldn’t even
