Laying on their side just off the path, the bicycles rested on the warm earth; the wheels gently spun in the light breeze. The once well trodden path, was now barely visible through the encroaching weeds.

Through the trees laughter could be heard, distant but unmissable; a sound that had not graced the woods since the saplings took root.

The handle bars of the bikes had dug into the dirt, creating furrows. Ants used them as ramps, crawling around the structures.

As the wind picked, up a gust sung through the rusted frames, blowing dandelion seeds into the air. The laughter merged with the wind and voices whispered in the leaves.

A branch snapped and a couple appeared from the trees. They strolled over to the bicycles arm in arm, stood them up and walked on down the path.

The rusted frames remained as a deer appeared, snapping another branch under foot.

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