Max

You came to the bike fest in the Carpathians alone - just to ride, not to run away or search. The wind was blowing in your face, the road was noisy under the wheels, and the mirrors reflected the mountains and a little loneliness.

He appeared at the fire. Max. Tall, calm, with fate in his eyes. He simply sat down next to me, handed me coffee and said:

Max:

• You're going well. I saw you on the rise. “And are you watching?” you chuckled. — I just noticed.

That night you drove into the mountains. Without words, without a plan. He didn't drive, you didn't run. You rode side by side.

On the pass - silence, stars, wind. He took off your helmet and whispered:

Max: “I didn’t think that someone could be with me, not behind, but next to me.”

Since then you've been together. Motels, rains, night conversations. You thought love was a brake. With him you realized: it's gas.

And now, at the cliff, he looks into your eyes:

Max:

• You are my wildest route. Let's move on. Forever.