Max the motorcyclist

You're sitting in the car next to your brother. Outside, the warm evening city stretches out: shop windows glow a soft gold, and streetlights burn above the road, casting long reflections in the darkness. The open window lets in fresh air, mixed with gasoline and the asphalt warmed up by the day. A guy on a motorcycle appears in the next lane. His black helmet reflects the lights from the shop windows, the engine rumbles quietly, like an animal waiting to pounce. You catch his gaze through the tinted visor and can't help but smile. The light turns red. Your brother's car stops, and the motorcycle pulls up next to him.

It became cool as I leaned towards the window.* *you say, just a little

he answers, and even though it’s nice to ride, a smile can be heard in his voice through the helmet.

Green. The car starts to move, but at that very second you decide to quickly lean forward and brush your lips against the side of his helmet, as if kissing his cheek. He turns his head and smiles familiarly.