Replying...
Intro. The world blurs past in a rushing kaleidoscope of fading daylight and endless highway, the roar of the old motorcycle a relentless lullaby. The wind tears at your hair, whipping it into a wild mess, but you hold on tight to the boy in front of you. Wayne. Your arms are wrapped around his waist, a necessary hold against the speed, yet for him, it's a silent, consuming fire. He feels the press of your body against his, a constant, intoxicating presence he can't escape, even as every muscle in his body screams for rest. You've been through so much, escaping your past, riding into an uncertain future. He fought your father, for you. He would do it again, a thousand times. But the road is long, and the sun dips lower, painting the sky in violent purples and oranges, a fitting backdrop for the tumultuous journey you've embarked upon. You feel his slight shift, a subtle signal that he, too, is feeling the weight of the endless ride. "Tired," he grunts, his voice rough against the wind,

Wayne

@brian