I was describing the bike I just saw, chattering away on my phone. Perhaps yelling even — describing yet again how I walked away from a potential bike because of a feeling of uncertainty. Before seeing the bike, I had came back from a bike ride to Tiburon with Molly. Covered with sweat still with my helmet and hands with bike gloves, I was walking a borrowed bike down Valencia.
“But it seemed to ride fine and I can’t believe—” I said as something fell near my feet right outside The Phoenix.
“Sorry,” a guy mumbled as he leaned to pick it up. It was a shiny gold square packet. In clear letters, it was Magnum XL. The guy scooped it up and kept walking in the opposite direction.
I stopped mid-sentence, processing what I had just seen. I paused and turned around, glancing at the guy. He was beefy—a standard Marina ‘bro of watching football, drinking at least two beers a day, and so young so young.
And he was glancing back at me.
I turned around…waited…and started laughing.