He knew every road and lane in the city.
He had to, he was a bike messenger. He worked for a courier company, carrying and delivering items around the city, and as such he’d received a few scrapes, cuts and bruises over the three years, mainly from getting bumped by the occasional car. Coming off his bike was like getting brownie points with the girls. They always liked to hear the details of any collisions, and if he had scars they were always keen to see them. He was always more than happy to oblige; he certainly had a lot of them. It transpired that this aspect of his job had, over the years, resulted in him accumulating more steady girlfriends than he knew what to do with.
Unhappily, this particular lifestyle came to a very abrupt end the day that the slightly haughty girl from behind the counter in the jewellry store, being somewhat foolishly convinced that she was the only one, found out that she wasn’t.
He was on one of his regular runs, heading down the main street when he saw the car cross into his lane, and coming straight towards him. It seemed to be picking up speed. He may have had the presence of mind to make a sudden, last minute manoeuvre, had he not taken those last precious seconds to recognise and fully comprehend why he was looking at the face of the of slightly haughty girl from behind the counter in the jewellry store…