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He leaned his bike against the wall. Having no kickstand, the only other alternative was to lay it down on the pavement — not a good choice even though this part of the Mid City New Orleans neighborhood was deserted at this early hour. He heard a distant sound and paused. Was that a cat? The meowing faded away. He looked around and saw nothing moving, nobody present. The only other sounds he could hear were more familiar — a kettle starting to whistle, the closing of a door, a radio traffic report. All of these incidental noises were coming from behind the closed hurricane shutter near his bicycle. He walked a few feet and turned the corner and climbed the two stairs to the apartment and disappeared inside.


Bicycle Daydream, oil on canvas by Mike Chambers