Where I Left It

Black and white. That’s how the forest feels now, quiet, distant, like a memory I can’t let go of. In the center, sunlight filters through the trees, soft and hollow. That light used to mean something. There’s an old bicycle leaning against a tree, just where I left it years ago. The rust has taken hold. No one’s ridden it since. A rabbit runs through the frame, fast, free everything I’m not. I didn’t mean to leave it behind. I just... didn’t have the strength to keep pedaling. This image isn’t art. It’s a piece of a day I never got back. A still frame of everything I couldn’t say.