𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐩𝐜𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 • 𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒈

✿ 08.04.22 ✿

He brings me cupcakes, every morning.

This time, like the last five days, it's two red velvet cupcakes, with cream cheese frosting and a dusting of cocoa powder to top it off. Delicious.

"Thanks babe." I smile.

"No probs." He replies, rummaging through the fridge for a morning snack.

"More early morning practice?" I ask, hearing the hastiness in his actions.

"Yeah, gonna be like this for a while now up until season starts. I've still got a lot to build on." I nod in understanding, being the good, supportive girlfriend I am. If his success means sacrificing morning cuddles for good, I don't mind. It's the least I can do.

When he doesn't find anything in the fridge, I say "There should be some bananas in the fruit bowl, if you like."

He glances to the fruit bowl, grabbing a banana "Ah, thanks. Just what I needed." He tosses it to himself playfully.

"K, gotta go now, love you." He pecks me on the cheek

"Love you more." I manage to say just as he disappears out the door. Once again I get my coffee and stare longingly at my laptop screen.
I just about managed to submit my last essay on time, but this one has me really stumped. What I needed was some inspiration. Something to get my cogs turning.

I think it's time to resort to something that I used to do in the past whenever I got writer's block.

Cycling.

Cycling was a good way to take a break from writing back when I first started my Major, but over time it just became something of a chore rather than a hobby. But now I think it's time to bring back the lycra and saddle up.

I searched the storage room for my bicycle that I'd hoped Noah hadn't sold, but just when I was losing hope, I found it lying behind a pile of books. It was rusted and dusty, but it wasn't broken and that I could work with.

Then I pulled on the only athletic clothes I owned: an embarrassing pair of lycra leggings and a matching baselayer, buckled in my helmet, and took the lift down with my bike. I swear I looked so foolish when I exited the lift with my bike propped up in an odd position against the handrail, and old lady giving me confused looks. To be fair, I looked like a fucking Simpson, it was ridiculous.

Soon I was off, zooming down the busy streets of downtown Cleveland. I made sure to steer clear of the college campus in case a few of my course mates were hanging round and decided to take a picture of me. For the first few minutes, I was deeply self conscious and debated just going back, but once I was in the zone, I loved it.

Adrenaline coursed through my veins as I careered through cars and motorbikes, a smile naturally spreading onto my face. The feeling of moving at a different speed than normal felt like being injected with pure serotonin. My blonde hair flew in the wind and danced in all directions. I felt free as a bird.

Almost an hour later I returned to my one bedroom flat, my face red with exhaustion and my heart roaring inside of my chest. I strip off the lycra and change into house slacks, too tired to have a shower immediately. But as I sit down at the dining table, a sudden rush of ideas come flooding into my mind, and I write it all down. I write and write and write until I nearly exceed the maximum word count. It's like my mind is a dam that's just been opened, it's overwhelming.

Then I check and re-check my work, thoroughly impressed and proud, to say the least. I was glad I'd cycled, and honestly if I hadn't stopped those years ago, I'm sure my writing would've well improved by now.

I feel a wave of accomplishment wash over me. An essay that was supposed to take two weeks, I'd just finish in 1 hour. I think I deserved a treat.

"Maya! Hi!" Evelyn's familiar high-pitched voice squeals as she answers the phone "I swear I haven't heard your voice in ages."