A week later the boy sat on his old worn out bike with one foot on the rusted metal peddle and the other on the cement sidewalk to balance him, as he gazed down the main street of his small home town. The boy was a sight to see with his old worn out blue jeans and white tee-shirt. Each knee was a tattered maze of worn out threads. He folded up the bottoms of his blue jeans both for looks and a way to keep them out of the spokes of his bicycle wheel. His curly auburn brown hair seemed to flutter in the breeze. From time to time, he would pull back the dark curls away from his eyes and deeply tanned skin.