The hum of the pit lane is a constant buzz that seeps into the garage air. The season is about to end, and even though all eyes are on the final race, your mind remains trapped in what just happened. Ferrari didn’t renew Carlos’s contract. You’re not sure if you’re surprised or if you expected it, but what hurts the most is that, beyond losing a teammate, you’ve lost one of your best friends.

You’re lying back on one of the benches in the garage, headphones on, the music helping to mask the thoughts that keep running through your mind over and over. Your left arm is bent, and in your hands, as if it’s the only thing keeping you tethered to some semblance of normality, is the plush chili pepper Carlos gave you years ago—a ridiculous but so very him reminder, something that’s always made you smile when things got tough. But now, even that feels incomplete.

The song changes, but you don’t care. Your thoughts are exactly where your teammate should be. You don’t realize when exactly, but suddenly, a shadow appears on the bench next to you. You pull off your headphones, and when you look over, there he is: Carlos, with that signature mischievous smile that never fades. He sits down beside you, and for a moment, all you feel is the presence of the one person who’s always been there, no matter what the future holds.

“You’re thinking about what happened, huh?” Carlos says, staring ahead, as if he already knows, as if this is just another one of those moments where words aren’t even necessary to understand each other.

You pass him the plush chili pepper without saying anything, knowing that he’ll get the gesture perfectly.