Leo sat down at the table. “For a ride.”
He rolled the bike out, the cold concrete scraping under the rear tire. The neighborhood was asleep. Stars still sharp in the sky. The smell of dew and asphalt. He pulled on his helmet — a plain matte black one, no stickers, no ego — and threw a leg over. cbr 600 rr 0-100
The power band’s edge. His visor fogged for a second. He thought of Maria’s face last night when he’d said, “Do you even want to be here?” She didn’t answer. She just turned off the lamp. Leo sat down at the table
Leo revved once. The inline-four engine growled, then purred. 600 cc’s of pure, violent precision. The CBR wasn’t the fastest liter bike on earth, but it was the sharpest scalpel. It didn’t just go fast — it begged you to ask what you were running from. Stars still sharp in the sky
“Where’d you go?” she asked.
That morning, they talked for the first time in months. Really talked. About her job. About his distance. About the baby they’d lost two years ago that neither of them had mentioned since.
He pulled off the helmet. The sun was just cracking the horizon, spilling orange over the warehouses and power lines. A single tear traced a cold line down his cheek. Not sadness. Relief.