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Wednesday, 17 June 2026

'Saturday Morning Scrapes' by Melissa Flores Anderson

The bicycle chain whirs and the wheel skids on sand that has blown onto the pavement from the Marina dunes. Charles is a skilled rider, but he’s off his game today and careens into the ground. His hand looks like raw hamburger as he rights the bike to continue forward. It doesn’t hurt much, but as he rides along a main road, dodging vehicles, the pain intensifies. He is nine miles from home, where he will deal with it later.

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Jack hates the helmet, but Lilly insists on it. Jack teeters forward, training wheels holding him upright. He goes faster  and she runs to catch up. He tips over into a rose bush. He has a small scrape on his arm, but wants a band aid. Lilly kisses his forehead, lifts him into her arms, holding him against her hip with one arm while wheeling the bike beside her with the other. The last time she rode a bike was with Charles. She was too slow, just like in high school when she was last to finish the mile.

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