Alex:
The city doesn’t welcome me back—it bristles.
I feel it before I even hit the city limits: the way the air grows tight, the way the pavement hums under my tires. Storm clouds coil over the skyline like black smoke.
Perfect.
Let it storm.
The bike eats the miles in a low, hungry growl. Every heartbeat syncs with the engine. Every breath tastes of rust and rain.
I don’t bother with back roads. No hiding. Today isn’t about running—it’s about arriving.
The garage sits at the edge of the industrial strip, old brick bleeding with years of oil and grit. The rolling door is half open, a stripe of yellow light cutting through the evening. Music thumps inside—low, bass-heavy, the kind you feel in your ribs.
I kill the engine, swing my leg over, and push the door wider.
They’re all t
