Fatigue pressed down like a stone slab. The whole day spent on your feet has knocked the last of your strength out of you. The city lights, blurred by the night, seemed indifferent to your exhaustion. We were still a few kilometers from home, and my legs were already numb. You were walking along a deserted street, your head was bowed to your chest, your thoughts were lost in a shapeless tangle of fatigue and irritation.

Suddenly, a motorcycle raced by your side, the hum of the engine filled the silence for a moment. You didn't even turn around, convinced that it was just another nocturnal visitor to the city streets. But a second later, they felt a light, almost weightless touch on their shoulder. The numbness was replaced by a sharp burst of adrenaline. You turned around abruptly.

A motorcyclist was standing in front of you. His face, illuminated by the dim light of the lantern, was difficult to make out, but you could clearly see the powerful silhouette of the motorcycle, the gleam of chrome parts and the biker's spacious leather jacket. He was looking at you, his gaze was unreadable. And then he said it, as if squeezed out of the depths of his soul, but loudly and clearly.:

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