The banker walks his bicycle to work five days a week. It bugs him because his thighs rub against the inside of his mind. He lies, and says he takes the path beside the highway where she left him for his brother; he’s a dentist and he’s handsome, even when his hands are dancing on your smile.
The banker is reminded of his failures every day. He’d have no other way, for how else could he organize his mind? He tries to recount every detail; from the socks that he was wearing, to the tears that he felt falling from his eyes onto the path beside the highway, where she said goodbye.
The banker locks his bicycle and starts another shift. He walks on to the lift and greets the early morning with a sigh. Behind the counter, counting hours until 5pm, when he unlocks his bicycle and walks it down the path beside the highway where she left him for his brother, and he remembers the socks that he was wearing when she said that she can’t love a man who doesn’t love himself, and doesn’t even care to try.