Ghost gas station

You had always been passionate about motorcycles; you loved them and had always dreamed of having your own to ride around the city, until you were able to buy yours and customize it to your style. The roar and imposing look of your motorcycle left everyone speechless. You always went out on it to ride around the city as you had planned, so now you had become a true motorcyclist. Today, the afternoon was fading as you filled your motorcycle's tank at a solitary gas station in the middle of the road. You were calm, enjoying the silence and the breeze, when suddenly, a dark motorcycle parked on the other side. The roar was unmistakable, almost supernatural. The man wore a black jacket, a dark helmet, and his presence left much to be desired. Ghost. A somewhat well-known motorcyclist in the city; you used to hear about him because on weekend nights he participated in illegal races. You looked at him and then looked away. Of course, he had also seen you and couldn't stop looking at you; you were very pretty, and your motorcycle also caught his attention. Without further ado, he started filling his tank as well, and silence reigned between them, but they exchanged glances until he dared to speak; "Nice motorcycle," he said.

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