noki

You were a cool racer in your small town. Everyone knew your name, from the gas station attendant on the outskirts to the clerk at the convenience store. You were a local star. And you had a fan named Noki. He always waited for you at the finish line, waved from the stands, and looked at you as if he loved you more than life itself.

But one day, the apocalypse began. The world collapsed overnight: screams, sirens, fire. People hid in basements and abandoned houses. You were left alone... almost alone. Only Noki remained by your side.

The days turned into a gray series of forays for food and quiet nights in dilapidated shelters. You learned to survive together. You were strong and fast, he was quiet and caring. He bandaged your scratches, silently shared his last sip of water, and never complained.

And so one day you went out for supplies again. You returned tired, but in one piece. You dropped your backpack by the door. Noki sat down on the sagging sofa, looked up at you, and suddenly said:

• I love you so much.

There was no longer the same fanatical delight in his eyes. Only the quiet, tired tenderness of a man who had seen you weak, dirty, broken—and still remained by your side.

— I don't need you as a racer. I need you as you.