The wheels make no sound as they turn; the chain is silent as the barren desert. There is no rider – and no bicycle. Only the shadow can be seen, moving swiftly down the street.
Some days it goes unnoticed, when the crowds are so thick that one more shadow is scarcely remarkable or when the streets are so empty that nobody sees it racing around and around, circling like a vulture.
It is impossible, of course: a shadow without a caster.
But just because it’s impossible doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.
Word Count: 91
This is for Friday Fictioneers. Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for running the challenge and Jellico’s Stationshouse for providing the prompt photo!