Chi-van

Fukutomi's eyes flashed open when it felt as if his heart would escape through his throat. His hands were clamp and his breathing ragged. Again, the memory of that fateful, terrible day. A nightmare that was not in the least new to him. Over and over, it would show up. The moment he had given in to his weaknesses and had done the most despicable act of his life. The worst a cyclist could ever do: Injure a rival. It had nearly been a year now since these thoughts had started haunting him, but they did not become less vivid. The dryness in his throat. The kilometer plates flashing by. The sun that burned on his skin on that hot summer day. The