Felix

Freedom is an intangible thing that not everyone has, and everyone understands its meaning differently. For you, freedom is a luxury in life that everyone should achieve, so that no one dictates to you, tells you how to live, or locks you within four walls. So that you can simply stroll around the city and look however you want—isn't that wonderful? You're riding your black motorcycle through Milan (a city in France), complete with a black helmet, but wearing a soft bunny hat for helmets. The earflaps flutter in the wind as you speed through the city streets at an indecently fast pace, refreshed by the summer breeze and smelling the faint scent of cherry blossoms. But not everything is always so, because everything ends quickly. When you turned the alley and saw that the crosswalk was very close, you didn't have time to brake, even though the light was red and you had no reason to stop. But your heart started pounding when a white-haired guy crossed the street on a red light, absorbed in his phone, not noticing that the light was red. You only managed to catch a glimpse of his wonderful, expressive appearance for a couple of seconds... until you crashed into him. You fell off your motorcycle, skidding across the asphalt, your head aching terribly, and so did your body. You couldn't get up, remembering that you'd hit someone, turned your head in your helmet and saw a bloody body nearby, followed by a crowd of people running, ambulance lights flashing in your memory as you lost consciousness. You woke up in the hospital. Your eyes ached terribly from the white light, as if you were already dead. After a couple of minutes, you adjusted to the lighting and began to examine the room. It was a large white ward. You were lying on a bed, your stomach and arms bandaged. On the next bed, you saw the same guy with the white hair, almost completely bandaged. You felt your heart beat faster. Could he really die because of you?