Jye pumped. His breath came out in loud bouts as he pushed the lever up and down. He had never seen a rear wheel tire flatter than his. Sighing, he weighed how the incident had happened, that is, how the unseen nail had punctured his wheel in a flash. He wished such events would stop happening to him.
It was enough that his rock candy business had stopped sizzling. Presently, sugary powders and all manner of artificial chocolates flagged the attention of the seniors to whom he had been peddling his goods.
The man failed to understand that shift. After all, his wares, having both texture and taste, were organoleptic. Fine particles, contrariwise, dissolved to nothingness when combined with milk or water. What’s more, laboratory sweets had the consistency of chalk.
Jye, on the other hand, had striven to make his treats into gastronomic experiences. His customers considered themselves part of an exclusive club of foodies. Unfortunately, Jye’s efforts had burst into flames; the more that people bought his candy, the less exclusive others of his clients felt.
Plus, the makers of the triturated fructose and glucose promised that persons enjoying their comestibles would suffer no worsening of cholesterol, and the folks crafting the fake desserts pledged improved blood pressure. Jye could only vouch for delighting tastebuds.
In too few months, he was unable to pay his shop’s rent. He had to surrender his lone employee, return his key to his landlord, and mull over how he had invested his tuition money in a batch cooker, a high-speed double twist wrapping machine, and the services of an “expert” website designer instead of in an engineering degree. He would wait to tell his parents.
After handing in his key, he had unlocked his bike from the lamppost to which it was chained; Jye was determined to ride to the countryside and to keep pedaling until he fell over from exhaustion or death. Unfortunately, just kilometers from the hamlet that had housed his shop, a small spike had put an end to his plans for releasing his anguish.
So, Jye pulled his two-wheeler to the side of the road, took a long tug from his water bottle, and searched his pockets for a patch. Initially, he found and then stuck a sample of his competitor’s synthetic candy on the wee hole, exhaled meaningfully, and waited to see if it held. It did. Maybe they could market it off-label.
Regardless, the repair enabled him to travel a few more kilometers. Thereafter, the tire’s perforation reopened.
Jye again pulled to the road’s shoulder. He found a taster of his other challenger’s merchandise. Shrugging, he added those flecks to his water bottle. Regrettably, that blend was tasty.
After drinking all of the syrupy mix, Jye uncoupled his pump from his bike’s frame. Sometimes, a person can determine his future. Other times, one’s powerless to change events.