The Coasting Wheel

I walked past the pocket park to the metal bicycle rack by the corner. A blue bicycle rested upside down on the pavement. I leaned forward and gently tapped the raised rubber tire with my body. The spokes blurred. Round, and round. Cool air drifted past my cheeks. I stood completely motionless, watching the small orange reflector trace steady circles against the morning sky. The clicking sound slowed down, step by step, until the heavy valve stem settled at the very bottom.