He rode through the streets, swift and smooth like water. The revving of his motorcycle angered millions of passerby’s but he couldn’t care less.

Minho sped to a gas station, pumping up his bike as he leaned on it. He looked around before noticing a blue motorcycle at a gas pump.

He heard the door bell of the convenient store chime and you walk out, he knew it belonged to you. He watched as you head to your periwinkle motorcycle. “Nice bike.”