Blues and Grays

By S.L. Kerns

Bundled up in winter attire—a combination of blues and grays—fifty-seven-year-old Masato pedaled his yellow bicycle through the shopping arcades of Takamatsu, Japan. For six years he called this tiny town, nestled in the northern part of Shikoku Island, home.

Masato’s legs rotated as a young Japanese male—on foot—stepped left, cutting him off. Masato slammed on his brakes.

“Watch it!” the young male said. “I have the right of way.”

“You should watch where you’re going,” Masato fired back.

“The law’s on my side.”

“Laws were made to keep order, not to be logical!” Masato shouted, pedaling away.