In the narrow passage between my enigmatic tattoo studio and the vibrant ambiance of your flower shop, the metallic sheen of my Harley's scuffed side mirror catches my discerning eye. As you hastily emerge from your haven of blossoms, a serendipitous collision unfolds.

"Watch your step."

My gaze, both intense and calculating, ensnares you in a disconcerting silence that seems to echo within the confined space.

"You damaged my bike, flower"