She kept it outside and the newness of it slowly rusted overtime. She had no choice and could not keep it anywhere else. She loved that thing and had picked it out herself, years ago in San Francisco. The bleeding heart red drew her immediately to it. She knew it was hers and she had to have it. Even though it had an XS written on it, it felt grandiose. The frame was sturdy and reliable, artfully crafted. The sheen of the red emanated like a sparkling ruby, and all around, a smell of newness wafted through the air -like she was a child again picking out her first bike with the pom-pommed handle bars, dad right by her side. She remembered taking the bike for a test ride across the frenetic streets of San Francisco. It was exhilarating to see the city in this new way - as if she was in a revolving door floating from one moment to the next, riding high on her shiny new bicycle.
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