There was a sound, rude and sudden. Of metal screeching through a tiny tear in the mechanical universe. A grind and crunch and this is what dreams being crushed in Fate’s fist sounds like. Instantly, you stop pedaling to brake and balance precariously before putting a foot down. It was the hopeless, pathetic cry of a derailleur twanging a spoke as it ripped your heart from its moorings in the harbor of your chest.
