Villainess's Sweet Everyday

My breath is rising. Sweat drips down my back, too. The jersey is moist and a little uncomfortable. Eyes on a round clock mounted on a wall. The second hand is spinning well. But time hasn't progressed much. You're cursed, you can't get away with being taken by the tiger buckwheat that says today, and your hard work builds up.

Ha, the small panel in front of me suggests my effort. Contradictions arise from that. There's a difference between the time you pulled the bike over and the clock elapsed. What's wrong is that today doesn't end. And the people around me are not aware of it, and I can only think of it as my delusion.

Pedal. My legs are heavy and weak.