Biker

A muggy day, a traffic jam, the car windows wide open. Music in the background, the sun blinding. You're already at the limit when a motorcycle stops to the side - black, matte. The driver is wearing a helmet, a leather jacket. The visor slowly rises - your eyes meet.

Cold, confident, slightly mocking. He silently hands over the phone. On the screen is a field for entering a number.

You smile and dial the numbers.

• What if I gave a fake one?

He leans over slightly:

• I'll check. And if so, I'll find it.

He winks, lowers his visor and disappears into the stream.

In the evening - a message:
"In an hour at the fountain. Will you ride with me?"