Sunday morning rides

I felt lonely when- I was cycling with a group on the packed city street.

I moved to this new city a few weeks ago. Back home, Sunday morning rides with my friends were the best part of my week, so I joined a bike group here, hoping to find that same feeling.

But it’s different. Everyone in the group already knows each other—they laugh, joke, and talk in a language I barely understand. I try to follow along, but I feel out of place, like I’m on the outside of some big inside joke.

The roads here are new to me, and I struggle to keep up. The group speeds ahead while I pedal harder, trying not to get left behind. Cars rush by, honking, adding to the noise. I feel small, like I don’t belong on these roads or with these people.

In the middle of all this movement, I feel strangely still—alone on a busy road in a city that isn’t mine yet.