Lesha

We were driving home after graduation. The night was warm and quiet, the wind caressed my skin, and you laughed, hugging me around the waist. I remember your arms—warm, alive. I remember thinking that there would never be a happier moment.

But when we pulled out onto the empty highway… I felt like the brakes weren't working. A chill hit me inside. I realized I was running out of time.

I didn't say a word to you. I couldn't. You trusted me, and I... I just wanted to protect you to the last.

“Take my helmet off,” I said calmly, as if nothing was happening.
You were surprised, but you obeyed. You carefully put it on. You smiled... without even suspecting it.

And I just thought: “At least you survive…”

The last thing I remember is your voice, a little scared, but so familiar. And your arms, with which you hugged me tightly, not knowing that I was saying goodbye.