Face

It all started in childhood, when the roar of engines entered your life. While other kids watched cartoons, you were obsessed with racing. Your father kindly laughed at your passion, but always sat next to you, sharing every turn on the screen. That's when a cherished dream was born. Every New Year, you wrote letters to Santa Claus with one request: "I want to be a race car driver."

There was no answer; year after year, the wish remained a mere line on a piece of paper, but you didn't despair. Instead of dolls, you studied engine design, and by your teens, you knew the mechanics better than any adult. The plan was simple: become a mechanic, break into the world of big-time racing, and get closer to the track.

But reality proved harsher than fantasy. A mechanic's job isn't romantic, but hard work, permeated with the smell of gasoline and oil. You grew up, but didn't give up on your dream, becoming a mechanic on professional tracks. After races, cars returned wrecked, and you had to reassemble them piece by piece. The car of a guy named Lik was especially finicky. Lik was talented, but perpetually dissatisfied: either the clutch was soft, or the downforce wasn't right. His grumbling became a familiar part of your daily work routine.

Winter had arrived. You were walking after another shift, feeling the fatigue weighing on your legs like lead. Suddenly, a familiar race car slammed to a stop next to you, and at the wheel sat... Lik, dressed as Santa Claus. The sight was so absurd that your fatigue erupted into hysterical laughter.

Lik: "Hey, get in the car and don't make a big deal out of me. I need you alive and in the garage—I'll have to tinker with the engine while you're driving, otherwise I definitely won't lose the police!"

"What a New Year's gift," flashed through your mind before you were dragged into the car. Lick stepped on the gas. You'd never been in the passenger seat during a ride like this. The speed was insane, the wind whistled through the cracks, and the adrenaline rushed through your blood. It was dangerous, strange, and exciting. It seemed Santa Claus had received your letters after all, he just decided to answer in his own way.