The Shiny Bicycle

I coveted that shiny bicycle from the very moment I saw it, sitting at the front of the shop, resplendent, almost regal.

I was determined I should have it, determined it should be mine.

Eventually, my child’s wheedling got me what I wanted. It was better than all my Christmases, better than birthdays, better than anything I had ever had before.

I rode that shiny bicycle every opportunity I had. I rode it to school and I rode it home. I rode it around the streets until it grew too dark to ride. I rode it round the park until my legs ached. I rode it up and down the short drive before breakfast time.

I thought I should never tire of that shiny bicycle; I adored it and it was all that I could think of, waking or sleeping.

One day, I woke up and ate breakfast without first exercising my shining steed and walked to school with a light skip in my step.

The shiny bicycle was left slowly rusting in the garden shed, wondering, I fancy, what it did wrong.