The time eventually came for us to part ways, and as I rode back with her seated behind me, I felt a mix of emotions—contentment from the day, but also a slight sadness at having to say goodbye. She, however, was nervous, glancing at the time and muttering anxiously, “I’m going to be late…” Her voice grew frantic, and her grip tightened as she fretted aloud about her mom, about the time ticking by too quickly. For the next thirty minutes, she kept muttering anxiously, her words pouring out in rapid, worried whispers. I decided to do my best to ease her tension, trying to make her smile by doing playful commentary on the other bikers and drivers. “Look at that guy—his bike’s probably faster than mine, but he looks like he’s in his own world!” I teased, pointing out the quirks of the traffic around us. When I saw...
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