Two lives in one

It was a cold jet black, windy November evening when I cycled back from work. It was like no other evening, the dirty Tesco plastic bags floated across the road like a graceful ballet dancer, the skeleton like figures of the bare trees swayed like someone who was about to faint and they blocked out as much light as possible in this poor visibility. I suddenly swerved to get out of the way of a pothole and almost toppled over as a short gust of wind, like that of a back wash of a lorry caught me, but I regained my balance. The blaring of horns of angry drivers stuck in that frustrating rush hour was clear in my ears, I looked to my right to see the lights of houses and the fire coming from the fireplace, it looked so cosy and it made me want to get home even quicker to my lovely family. Suddenly the bright moon that shone like a beacon disappeared behind the clouds like a ghost disappearing into a black wall and a shiver went down my spine like mouse running down my spine and I quickly ...