Light and Lock

You are about to wheel the bike out. Neither light has been tried tonight. The glow from the overhead hallway sconce is dim enough that you can’t be sure the amber running light on the fender is even plugged in, and the headlight’s new battery has been sitting idle since you swapped it out three … Read more

The lamp rotates down as soon as you touch it. You were adjusting it to shine on the scuff mark you need to touch up with paint before your landlord drops by tomorrow, and now it lolls forward like a tired head, casting all its light on the scuffed linoleum at your feet instead of … Read more

The cable is through the front wheel. The frame is free. You glance down the empty apartment hallway, a faint clink of a distant apartment door closing making you freeze for half a second before you refocus on the bike propped against the wall by your unit. The cheap U-lock someone left sticking through the … Read more

The white reflector is on the floor under the bike. You bend down to pick it up, fingers brushing the scuffed linoleum of your building’s hallway that always smells faintly of lemon disinfectant and old takeout. The plastic edge is slightly cracked where it hit the ground, no other damage you can spot at a … Read more

It is still daylight. You are in the hallway with the light in your hand. The motion sensor by your front door flickered twice last night when you hauled your groceries in at 11, casting long shadows over the step you stub your toe on every other month. You grabbed this replacement LED flood from … Read more

The bike-lock key is loose in a pocket. The door keys are on a ring. You brush crumpled grocery receipts out of the jacket pocket to get a better grip on the silver bike lock key, the edge of its plastic head digging into your palm as you pull it free. The hallway’s overhead light … Read more

You rode home. The lock is not on the bike. You fumble the handlebar grips, pat your jacket pockets twice, and stare back down the dim apartment hallway toward the bike rack by the front entrance, heart jumping a little because that lock cost you three weeks of coffee budget last month. You’d saved up … Read more

You are locking up for twenty minutes. Both locks are on the bike. The building entrance glows just ten feet behind you, and the only other person in the hallway is a neighbor hauling groceries up to the third floor, who waves before turning the stairwell corner. You don’t have time to fumble with both … Read more

The lock is stiff. Your hands are cold and the key is small. You’re hunched over the U-lock on your bike outside your apartment door, thick wool gloves slipping on the serrated key edge as you fumble to line it up with the keyhole. You don’t want to take the gloves off, not after walking … Read more

You ride in the morning. The light is on the bike, not on the charger. You’re halfway out in the third floor hallway, Hallway Bike propped against the wall by your apartment door, bag slung over one shoulder after grabbing takeout from the corner taco spot down the block. Your keys are in your other … Read more