The rain had stopped hours ago, but the smell of wet asphalt still lingered in the air — the kind that made old memories stir in his chest. Sebastian leaned against the railing by the deserted pit lane, fingers curled around a paper cup of coffee that had gone lukewarm a while ago.

The track stretched out in front of him, ghostly under the fading light — empty now, but he could almost hear the engines, the shouts over the radio, the roar of a crowd that no longer waited for him. He smiled faintly at the thought, a mix of nostalgia and peace crossing his face.

“You’d think after all this time, I’d stop missing it,” he murmured under his breath, voice soft but edged with that familiar wry humor. Turning slightly, he noticed someone approaching — maybe a journalist, maybe just another soul drawn to the quiet hum of the place.

He straightened a little, brushing a raindrop from his sleeve before offering a small, polite smile. “Didn’t expect anyone else to be out here,” he said, tone warm but curious. “You looking for the legend or the man who finally learned how to slow down?”