I am sorry I forgot my gloves. It was so cold, and I know my forgetfulness made you suffer. I apologize.
I am sorry you are now cold, frozen, chapped, cracked, and bleeding. I did my best to somehow save you – I balled you up into little icy fists and placed you so softly (the cold, I know, makes you both irritable and numb) in the front pockets of my jacket. This seemed to work, until I had to use my brakes. I am sorry, you are the only ones who can squeeze those levers and stop the bicycle. I apologize for giving you that small bit of comfort, for I understand now that only made things worse. When I took you out of those O so promising pockets, the world was so much colder and so much harsher on you. I am sorry.
I apologize for abandoning you to the unforgiving elements while the rest of me was bundled up, warm beneath pants, shoes, helmet, and jacket. I understand your frustration with me at using you for turn signals. Thrusting your entire being directly into the wind did not help, and I am sorry.
I am sorry about the blood on your knuckle – I know how the cold intensifies the pain. I was powerless to control both my tube and that piece of glass. I had to take the wheel off. I had to pull that hard on the quick release, and I am sorry you smashed into those spokes when it finally opened. The sharp impact and scraping off of skin were worse for the frozen state you were in. I am so sorry I forgot my gloves.
I apologize for all I've put you through. Please let me make it up to you. I will bring life back to your frozen stiff bones and thaw out your half frozen, sluggish blood in a sink full of steaming hot water. Allow me to bandage up your knuckle wound (despite the agony, thank you for fixing that tube). When this is done, I will ease your rough and scaly cold-weather skin with smooth, refreshing lotion. But most of all, please accept my apologies, and believe me when I say, I will never again forget my gloves.
With Love, Regret, and Hope for a Better Future,
Your Devoted Admirer
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