I hadn’t planned it this way, why would I? There had never been any cross words, no ill had ever been thought but it still happened.
We were alone, the hillside was deserted as the sun sank in its ever more southern arc to the horizon in a blaze of colour as the cold crept up on us from behind.
The sun winked out and we turned to go. I was careless, I stood up and pushed down hard, and then all I knew was the sounds of cracking, tearing and grinding. I stopped and looked down.
The injuries were terminal, even a glance in this half light would tell you that. I turned the wheel back and tried to remove the three mangled limbs as carefully as I could, but it was already over.
The past few years had seen us side by side everywhere, me running away and counting to ten and running back to see what we’d done, often to find myself chuckling or grinning. Never again, I’d killed my friend.
I knew at home in a box on the high shelf was something to ease my pain, but it would never be the same. Aye, we’d make new memories in the days to come, but… My mind slipped back to days past as I carefully placed the broken and bent remains in the wheelie bin.
I breathed out slowly and made one resolution. Do not try to ride your bike on steep technical terrain with your camera and tripod fully extended you stupid bastard, you’re lucky the tripod broke first when the legs went through the spokes and not the wheel or your face.