this is goodbye: I don’t think we’ll ever see each other again.
You were a good bike, Maritza. You were a gift from a good friend; you had travelled those hundreds of miles with me, on top of my parents’ car, and you were a piece of home; you wore that cute old-fashioned wicker basket that grandma gave me. I was even thinking about you a nice makeover once I got back home, since you behaved so well, and I spent so much time with you. We treated each other well: I got all dirty to fix your fallen chain (even though I had no idea what I was doing), and you persuaded me to get a nice relaxing workout into a busy day. I had gotten a good, strong lock to keep you safe and carefully tied you whenever I wasn’t in a 3-foot-radius distance. But this wasn’t enough. Because you’re gone, and this is all I’ve got left:
You were stolen on a cold november evening, on campus, while I was in class. Believe me, you will be missed. We explored this city together, we went to Germany together, I spent time riding you and practicing my french “r” pronunciation (but you were kind and didn’t tell anyone). Bikes are stolen by the dozen every day in Strasbourg, so when I found out you were gone, and A. (the guy who’s working on the Egyptology with me and one of the sweetest men I know) asked me what was the problem, and then told that he was so, so sorry, I wasn’t that upset. A bit angry, a bit sad. What can I do? I’m replace you, but please now you’ll always have a tiny place just for you in my heart. We had good memories together. Sigh.