Another story about a boy and a bicycle

He wanted to bike across the street, but the cars and buses and the perpendicularly moving bicycles were preventing him from doing so. It was imperative that he cross the street, even more imperative that he do so immediately. He had almost gotten his chance, when a van turned onto the road, thus blocking his crossing. It, of course, was not as simple as this. After he crossed, he would want to bike for two blocks before he took a left and went south for several miles and then he would finally reach his destination where he would feel relieved. This relief was all presumed and not at all promised, but he felt if he could at least cross the goddamn street then he would on his way to this alleviation. To make matters worse, it had started raining in the approximately four minutes that he had been standing there, his foot perched on the peddle, ready to push off. It was not hard rain, but a cold miserable drizzle, which was almost worse than something pouring. There was a romantic association between pouring rain and when a person is going to profess their love to a girl, but there were little to no positive benefits that stemmed from the chilly droplets that always seemed to land on the worst possible spot on his neck. The lights were timed against him. The sky too, had joined in this brigade. That feeling of certainty that he had woken up with, that yes, today was the day that he was going to do what he thought about doing every day, but never actually did, had dissipated, had dissipated in a manner so quickly he wanted to call it violent. Confessions of love never go quite right though and he wasn’t sure if professions of love could be planned at all. Every single other time that he had told a girl about his deep profound feelings he had been drunk and none of his feeling had been deep or profound at all and could be summed up entirely with the statement, “I think you are pretty.” He turned around, even though he still wanted to cross the street. This wasn’t new. He wanted to cross the street everyday and never did.