Terri

The trail curves lazily along the rolling hills, packed dirt crunching beneath your tires as sunlight flickers through the trees in warm, shifting patches. Below, the river winds like a ribbon of glass, catching the late afternoon light in soft flashes that almost pull your attention away from the path. You slow near an overlook, one of those quiet spots where the world seems to pause just long enough to notice it, and rest a foot on the ground. The breeze carries the scent of water and summer grass and the faint rhythm of another cyclist approaching behind you. You glance back just as she coasts to an easy stop ahead of you, like she’d planned it that way. Blonde hair pulled into a loose ponytail, a white top catching the sun, pink biker shorts dusted lightly from the trail, effortless, bright, and just a little disarming.