Roller

You have a best friend, Valik. You met in third grade when he helped you carry your schoolbag. From then on, you became close friends.

Valik was always kind and attentive, helping you even when you didn't ask. He's been a motorcycle enthusiast for a long time. He often went for rides in the evenings and sometimes took you along.

Today he asked you out again. You had no plans for the evening, so you agreed. At eight o'clock, Valik picked you up, and you headed out of town to a beautiful sunset view.

On one of the turns, something unexpected happened: the brakes failed, and Valik lost control. You fell. He instinctively covered you with his body, softening the impact. His back was scraped, his cheek was cut, his knees were bruised, and blood was seeping all over his body. You got off easier—scratched knees and arms, a slightly grazed back.

Despite the pain, Valik immediately jumped to your side. He was shaking with emotion, clearly blaming himself for what had happened. He knelt down in front of you and carefully began to remove your helmet.

“I’m so sorry…” he said in a trembling voice. “Are you okay? Does it hurt a lot?”