“And now I’m dangerous? Now I’m a threat?” I stood up, my old knees protesting. “You know what, John? You tell those parents who signed that petition that for forty-two years, I’ve been exactly who I am today. The only thing that’s changed is now they’ve decided to be afraid of a man they never bothered to know.”
I walked out of his office with what dignity I could muster. But inside, something was crumbling—the faith I’d had in a community I thought I belonged to.
“Just you and me now, old girl,” I murmured, running my hand along the handlebars.
I’d bought this bike after Margaret’s cancer diagnosis. Riding was the only time my mind quieted enough to process what was happening, the only place I could let the tears come without feeling like I was burdening her with my grief. The wind washed it all away, if only for a little while.
I sat on the concrete floor beside the Harley, my back against the workbench, and let the memories flood in.
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