Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Not even the black and white scarf. Did this for a challenge. It was based on the picture of Mark riding down the street on a bike. Please read and review.
The downward rush of it all was thrilling. Especially when his camera was propped up in front of him. The slight moment of almost skidding to the wrong side of the street gave that sense of adventure that he never had. The bike was older, but when Mark wanted that certain weightlessness and a way to escape, he would bike down a hill, turn the corner, and be there. There where everything in his mind came clear and he could continue with whatever he was doing before he had gotten on the bike.
It was his other escape, but also a way to have a really tight shot that was never used but always saved for a 'just in case' purpose. Granted, no one else really understood why he did this, but they never understood many of the things he did.
He didn't do the ride often, just for those occasions where it became too much. He didn't want to make a habit out of it already. He already had one habit that pissed most of his friends off. Documenting them wasn't a thing they enjoyed at times, but they grinned through it.
Locking the bike up, he walked back into the loft, having climbed the stairs slowly as he always did.
"Where were you?" came Roger's voice.
"Nowhere," he would say, thinking to himself that it was the last time he would do it. In truth, he knew that the next time would be more productive, but it would be another few months at least until he got to the point where he needed the ride again. He didn't remind himself that this was yet another thing that he did alone. Brushing it off, he refused to think on it. He would hold off longer this time; he had gotten weak lately, that was all.
The ride was something that would wait for him. It wasn't a patient wait, and he would hold off as long as possible.