(006)
There are three dances that occur between them every morning. It took them time to learn the moves, of course, but now they coast wordlessly through the motions, conscious of the subtle differences in one another’s routines, sidestepping and pirouetting in a joint effort to maintain harmony.
One of them is up first, outside the tent and hopping to warm up, banana already in hand. The other is sat up in the tent, rubbing his face and breathing heavily, sleep still clinging to the edges of his mind. The crack of the banana being peeled acts as the starting pistol for the one in the tent to pack his things away, before climbing out and letting the other roll up his sleeping bag and mat. He chooses now to eat, and with biscuit in mouth, he pulls out the tent pegs, removing the outer layer just in time for the other to get his stuff out.
This is when the first dance begins. They take both corners of the top layer of the tent, one side each, facing across from one another. They follow courtly dancing etiquette, stepping forward and bringing the corners together, then stepping back and repeating the process twice more. The now much smaller piece is then rolled up by one of them as the other takes apart the inner layer.
Then begins the second dance. A repeat of the first, but with the roles switching for the final stage, as the other packs the tent poles away. Each section of the tent is slid into its own separate bag, and then squirrelled away into one of the 8 available bags split between the two men’s bikes.
A symphony of clicks and the vvvrrp! of straps being tightened signals that they are almost done with their morning ritual. They stand beside one another, parentheses’d by their bikes, watching the world, and on this particular morning also the river, run by them. The soft breeze of pre-dawn does more than just sprinkle sycamore seeds across the ground around them, it also marks the beginning of the third dance.
The breeze slaloms its cold fingers down the back of their necks, causing one of them to shiver and turn to face his partner, with the other promptly following suit. In unison they lift their right feet slightly off the ground and tap the insides of them together and then pull away, hopping to lift the left foot and repeating the move, then tapping the outsides of their left feet, finally switching sides again and bringing their right feet around the back of their left legs to tap their heels together. They repeat these steps in a shortened cycle until a mistake is made.
Inside, outside, heel, inside, outside, heel, inside, outside, heel, inside, ou-in-
They laugh and try again, and again, until they’re both warm enough to start their journey, kicking their stands out and wheeling their bikes through the trees until they reach the road.
One settles into his seat, clipping his left shoe in and standing on his right leg. The other stands on the right side of his bike, right foot on the pedal, left ready to push off from the floor.
“It was a nice spot.” One of them says to the other.
“Mm,” The other nods in agreeance, “you ready?”
The first nods back and they push off, not quite together, but close enough to call it that.
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