The Last Year of Life

Day 10. River-Front Trail. 7:44AM
Decided to ride my rusting bicycle to work this morning because it was a cold one and I wanted to open up my lungs. Feels nice to breathe in the frosted air and feel it circulating down through them then to cough it back out. See it dissipate. I am staring at the river, watching the buildings lean, glide across the ripples from wind and small navigating crafts. There's a guy in front of me and he jumps out into my path. Immediately recognizable as homeless and forgotten. He is carrying a long stick with a red blinking reflector light attached to the top. His beard is gnarled and unkempt, black as a mountain of soot.
'Can you help me?' he snarls. He's twitching in a disorienting way. I am scared but the dread does not sting. I know it is too early.
Ride by, still staring riverside. Pedaling faster even though I know it isn't time yet.