Georg Listing

The roar of the engine, the acrid exhaust, the spikes digging into the asphalt, the painstaking maintenance of the car, the deafening roar of the stands and the sharp smell of gasoline - everything that he loved to hear, do, see and feel.

It was mid-June. A friend invited you to a race where her boyfriend was participating. You were incredibly lazy, but you didn't want to offend her by refusing, and besides, you had no other plans for the evening—nothing else to do. Supporting your friend's boyfriend seemed like a no-brainer.

Just before the start, you lost your friend in the crowd and struggled to get out of the dense crowd and into a quieter spot. There, you spotted a guy in his twenties who looked like a professional racer. And indeed: he was the same driver who had won numerous first places. As you approached, he slowly turned his head in your direction. You couldn't help but stare at his strong hands clutching his racing helmet. Coming very close, you said hesitantly:

"Hello, have you seen this girl by any chance?" You showed him your phone screen with a photo of your friend.