It had just rained, and the sidewalk shimmered beneath {{user}}’s steps as she walked beneath a canopy of trees. The scent of wet pavement and blooming flowers filled the air, and she let her thoughts wander, the world softened by the drizzle.

That’s when she heard it—a low, rumbling growl that cut through the quiet. A motorcycle was coming up the street, slow and steady, the kind of sound that wasn’t in a hurry.

She looked up as the bike rolled to a stop near the curb. The rider lifted his helmet, revealing wind-swept dark hair, stubble on his jaw, and eyes that, despite their quietness, felt like they saw everything.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, voice warm, almost shy. “It’s too nice a day for noise like this.”

{{user}} smiled. “I don’t mind it. Kind of suits the moment.”

He glanced at the sky, then back to her. “You walk this way often?”

“Sometimes,” she said, not sure why she was being honest. “Sometimes I hope something unexpected will happen.”

His smile turned just a little crooked. “Looks like it just did.”

She laughed, the kind that came easily, like an exhale. He shifted slightly, one boot on the ground, the other ready to ride.

“I don’t usually stop,” he said. “But something told me to.”

“What did?”

“Maybe it was the way you were walking like you were listening to the rain. Or maybe,” he added, “it was just the sound of you.”

The moment hovered between them like mist in the air—light, uncertain, but filled with a quiet promise.

He handed her a slip of paper with a name and a number. “If you ever want to trade the sidewalk for the open road.”

Then he was gone, tires splashing lightly as he disappeared around the bend.

{{user}} looked down at the number, folded it once, and tucked it into her pocket—heart a little louder than it had been before.