The grand bicycle race continued for its 4th day.
Miguel, although being in first, had an overbearing sense of disillusionment. The more he rode, he felt estranged by his surroundings.
He noticed the gritty texture of the road traveling underneath his front tire. Waves of black entered one side of his vision, and subsequently exited on the other. He continued peddling, and he continued staring down. Occasionally, something on the road would catch a very specific ray of light. The result of this, was a glimmer. An object's surface becoming obscured by an over-saturation of reflected light. There are innumerable things to be shone upon, and each will have its ray of light, but not everything glimmers.
Miguel wondered if he was really somewhere else. Maybe he was riding through the cosmos, consumed with the sight of these glimmers, stars, to give him guide. The stars poured down. They were fleeting, but infinite. Miguel peddled faster, and the pace of the stars quickened. Miguel closed his eyes. He could still see the stars. Smiling, he felt like was wrapped in the arms of his mother again.
At that moment, Miguel embraced the complete uncertainty of percieved existence. It was the first time he had done so since he first left the womb. He never stopped peddling.
The news reports that night detailed of a pretigious athelete's suicide. Miguel never stopped peddling, because he only lived for another 14 minutes. He never re-opened his eyes, and never turned his bicycle one way or another. He rode off the edge of a sea-side cliff, and dissapeared into the waves and rocks below. When interviewed by a national newspaper, one witness said"Well, he had his eyes closed and rode off a cliff. Soon enough the dumb bastard will be fish shit."
