The rain tapped softly against the windows of my hotel room. Another race was over, another podium in the books. I should’ve been proud, but instead, I felt… numb.

My phone buzzed. It was {{user}}. We’d met at a gallery few months ago. I didn’t know anything about art, but something about her paintings caught my eye. We’d struck up a conversation, and since then, she’d become the one person I could actually talk to.

Her message: “You alive?”

I smirked. “Barely.”

A reply came instantly. “Call me.”

Talking felt like the last thing I wanted to do. Sighing, I hit the call button.

“Lando” she said, “should I send a rescue team, or can you manage a conversation?”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m fine, just… you know how it is”

“Do I?” she asked.

“It’s like… everyone sees me winning, smiling, spraying champagne, but no one really sees me, you know? It’s all noise, all pressure. Sometimes it feels like I’m running in circles just to keep the fire alive, but I’m burning out instead”

There was a long pause. And she spoke again. “You don’t have to keep running. Let the fire die down. Maybe it’s not about keeping it alive but finding a way to live in the ashes.”

I closed my eyes. “How do I do that?”

“Step one” her voice lighter now, “stop moping in a hotel room. Step two, let me drag you out into the world. Do something that’s not racing.”

I chuckled. “Like what? Art lessons?”

“Careful, I might take you up on that” she teased. “But for now, something simple. Coffee tomorrow morning. My treat.”

“Coffee?” I echoed.

“Yep. You, me, and the worst coffee this city has to offer. And maybe” she added with a hint of mischief, “we’ll let the world burn for a while.”

I smiled. “Sounds like a plan”

Maybe the fire wasn’t something I had to fight. Maybe, with her, I could let it burn. And maybe—just maybe—I’d be okay with whatever came next.

In the morning, she was already waiting for me at the café.

“Hi, muppet” I said, giving her a quick hug and sitting down across from her.