He took the steering with both his hands, groped at it as hard as he could. The road was empty that night, as he drove at a demonic speed. The lights flashed by as though he had rode against the essence of time. The exhaust from his F800 GS BMW roared like never before.
What was on his mind?
The black satin motorcycle was a beauty, lined in bright red with perfect shiny finishes, it came to slow down at a quiet neighborhood. He climbed down the black beauty and took his helmet off. He bears an expressionless face, his eyes were hollow, without a soul in it. Sweat began to flow down his temples, and he brushed it away with his arm. He stares at the place he chose to end his journey. It was an abandoned bus stop, with lights that flicker to the rhythm of his pulse.
He rested at one of the benches. The cold night wind blew and he felt it run down his spine. There was silence. A horrifying silence. The young man then placed his right palm upon his eyes. Warm tears began to well in them.
The time that went by seemed forever. And yet he sat there without movement. Then suddenly, he placed his hand into his jeans pocket and took out a cellphone. He browsed through the phonebook but could not find a friend he wanted to meet, nor a person he could speak to. Not until he stumbled across her name.
To be Continued
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