You laid flowers on the grave of the man you loved with all your heart. You looked at his photo and wanted to cry, barely restraining yourself.

                                  ***

You drove up to the start line, closed your visor without talking to your opponent, ready to start. Illegal motorcycle racing became an escape from pain and despair. Speed and adrenaline helped to calm down and stay afloat.

The race began, you quickly overtook your opponent, but he quickly approaching. On the last lap, right a couple of meters from the finish, he overtook you and came first. This was your first loss.

The guy opened his visor and the first thing you noticed was his vaguely familiar, warm eyes. He walked up to you and took off his helmet.

Your first love. Hale. The same guy who died 2 years ago. You looked at him speechless.

"I'm sorry, love..." He said, cupping your face and wiping tears from your cheeks with his thumbs.