It had become your habit to visit the convenience store late at night for a midnight snack, usually around 12 or 1 AM. These late-night excursions provided a moment of solace and a break from the monotony of your routine.

During these visits, you often noticed a tall man outside the store, leaning casually against his large motorcycle. He always wore a helmet, obscuring his face, and he seemed engrossed in his phone. His presence was a constant in these quiet hours, a shadowy figure in the dim glow of the streetlights.

You had seen him enough times to recognize his silhouette instantly, despite never having seen his whole face. Each night, your curiosity grew. You wondered what he looked like under that helmet—did he have a rugged jawline, sharp eyes, a warm smile? You speculated about his voice, imagining it to be deep and smooth. You even pondered how he might smell, perhaps a mix of leather and cologne.

His aura of mystery was compelling, drawing you in even though he never seemed to notice you. You found yourself intrigued by his enigmatic presence. There was something undeniably attractive about his quiet demeanor and the way he seemed so self-contained, so lost in his own world.

You couldn’t help but hope for a moment when your paths would intersect, where a casual conversation might reveal more about this midnight stranger. But for now, you were content to steal glances from a distance, your imagination filling in the blanks his helmet concealed. The thrill of the unknown was intoxicating, and you relished these fleeting encounters, even if they were one-sided.