On feeling exposed.

The wind hit me crossways as I biked over the bridge and, suddenly, despite all my best efforts, I was pedaling through molasses. Struggling to get anywhere at all.

Still, despite the gale, it was seventy-something degrees out. Not much to complain about, save that every gust also whipped the skirt of my dress wide open. I felt a little silly, steering with one hand and, somewhat futilely, grasping the fabric between my legs with the other, trying to keep my whole outfit from billowing apart.

On the way home, after sunset, the breeze hadn’t died down any—but a couple of beers and the cover of darkness had me feeling less self-conscious about the matter. At this point, what do I have to lose?

P.S.: If you follow me elsewhere, you might have already seen, but! I have some ✨third-prize-winning✨ short fiction up over at Fractured Lit this week. Check it out! (CW: pregnancy loss)