Night Spoke

I followed the quiet perimeter of the courtyard until I reached the covered metal bicycle shelter. Tucked in the shadows stood an unlocked commuter bicycle, resting on its kickstand. I stepped up to the front wheel, smelling grease and damp rubber. Taking out my tortoiseshell pick, I drew the flat bevel lightly across three steel spokes. Each one hummed with a distinct, ascending twang that resonated deep inside the hollow aluminum rim before melting into the night air. I leaned back against the warm tire, letting the quiet reverberations hum through my cuffs.