Clara watching her parents standing all night in front of the window, Clara imagining her brother counting down the days, Clara stuffing herself with greasy and salty chips, Clara wandering under the arcades instead of attending Law lectures, Clara not liking herself because she has anonymous eyes and wide hips and thick ankles.

And the bike. The first one is neither fish nor fowl, but for a start, it'll do. The second is a road bike, second-hand, less than ten kilos, guaranteed steel, right size, two chainrings and nine sprockets, with a 32 at the back she could have climbed walls, how much does it cost? A little something.

Clara and the bike. The first time, an instrument of torture, puffing and swearing. The second time already better. The third time even more so. "Her breath seemed shorter and a soft breeze finally caressing her back". Zero chips and zero mortadella, outings and turns, getting in the saddle and pedaling, almost a need, almost a necessity, almost a pleasure, almost a revenge.

Bologna during the coronavirus. There was Gianna, the friend who already cycled, light, "the caresses of the wind on her back". There was Berto, a cyclist in the mechanic sense, but already a cyclist in the rider sense, marked by "a setback". There was the Dieci Colli, which would not be held. But there was also the gran fondo at Sassi di Roccamatina, which would take place, Gianna and Clara together and against.

"Everything will be fine" is the last of the ten "minimal sports stories" that Paolo Patui enclosed in "Against" (Bottega Errante Editions, 160 pages, 17 euros), the only one that talks about cycling among football and boxing, rowing and basketball (to know more: https://www.tuttobiciweb.it/article/2025/01/23/1737534111/sport-libri-ciclismo-storie-di-vita-paolo-patui). A story of today in thoughts and dialogues, in desires and temptations, in loneliness and resurrections, in the effort of living but also in the therapy of suffering, sweating, overcoming oneself. Not always with a happy ending, because our lives are made like this, they don't always provide for it. Indeed, often without an end. Like for Clara. Patui leaves Clara, and the readers, free to imagine the next moves, kicks, pedal strokes. "The road had just unrolled and stretched out and with a couple of angry pedal strokes she positioned herself there, behind that rival wheel, stuck to that numbed tubular".