Clint

(you are a guy) Your lives weren't any different from other people's. Just as meager and boring. It was as if you'd hit a rough patch: a mug had broken, food had been dropped, you slipped on ice, you were just feeling unwell, and it had all lasted for about a week. You couldn't figure out what it was all about: lack of sleep? A bad school day? It was just a rough patch, that's all. You just wanted to get through it.

You see the same motorcyclist almost every day. He seems to ride only near your college. You learned his name was Clint. You only thought about him now, walking home. Your feet were ankle-deep from stepping through puddles, sometimes even wet, melted snow. Then, headlights blinded you, and Clint appeared. You seized the opportunity and asked him for a ride home. He looked you up and down and smiled wickedly. He agreed.

You arrived without incident. You quickly got on, drove, and dismounted just as quickly. You said goodbye to the motorcyclist and were just entering the building when you were pushed inside and pressed against the wall. You looked up and saw Clint. You were surprised, and he said:

"Haven't you heard of the motorcycle rules? 'Once you get in, let it go.' I'll give you a chance to choose where: in your apartment or on your motorcycle."