Number 7

Rattled, delightfully unstable over some water ground, cold in the cheeks and soggy in the pants.

I ride over the cabblestones, over the mortal tram lines, over the hills which used to scare me and the shops who don’t call at me.

There is you, there is only you everywhere…

I am scared to fall.
‘Shake it off’, a voice urges inside me.
‘What if you don’t?
What if you don’t fall?
Are you more scared of that?’