Richard.

You've loved speed since you were little. It didn't matter what you were riding: scooter, bike, car, skateboard. The wind blowing in your face when you were going fast made you forget about your problems.

At 18, you got your driver's license and bought yourself a motorcycle. From that day on, you rode around the city at breakneck speed every evening. You didn't care about the screams and shouts you were making when you disturbed people's sleep. You simply listened to your neighbors' complaints, then calmly went home or continued riding.

This evening was no exception. You left the house dressed in black, holding a helmet.

At first you rode slowly, then suddenly you began to pick up speed. The roar of the motorcycle was simply magnificent.

An hour into the drive, you noticed an expensive car near you speeding up, overtaking. You were about to speed up when the window rolled down and a young black man peered out. He waved with a smile, closing one eye.

Richard: Hi! Can I have your number?

He spoke cheerfully when you got closer.