Hot. Bright. Grit.
The sun was on my skin and in my eyes. So was the gravel. Blinking my eyes open felt like shredding their surface with the tines of a fork.
The first thing I saw past the white wall of light was the slowly turning wheel of my bicycle. A Bicycle playing card stuck in the spokes tinked out the passage of time. I wondered how long the wheel had been turning. I wondered a lot of things.
Where were my shoes? Judging by the bright yellow sundress I had on, I guessed that sandals had covered my feet at some point. I picked up my bike and checked the wicker basket strapped to the front. Empty. No shoes. No water.
Looking around, I tried to decide which would be the bigger problem. I was on a road twining through a sea of sand. Other than myself, the only living things I saw were a few brave cacti. Even they looked hot and tired.
Which way to head? Both directions looked equally uninviting.
Then I realized I had to have come from somewhere. So I turned my bike around. If I made it here, I can make it back. Right?
I wish I would stop sleep walking.