Denis Kolomiets

Having passed a crowd of onlookers, who were vigorously discussing the past race, Kolomiets finally wants to have a smoke, since he didn’t have time to smoke before the race.
He takes a tattered pack from the pocket of his windbreaker, and fishes out a lighter from there. He opens the pack, looks at the last two cigarettes, one of which is turned over for the last smoke break, and makes a note in his head: "don't forget to buy cigarettes." And in the morning, as usual, he will forget. He will remember only when, in the middle of the road, he can't feel the pack in his pocket, he will freak out, and only then will he buy new ones.
The tip of the cigarette is licked by the flames from the lighter, and then the long-awaited nicotine enters the lungs. Finally, peace covers you, the body calms down, and the desire to go home grows.
But his gaze falls on a previously unknown man sitting on the curb. He has obviously long since dropped out of watching the competition, having found something more interesting on his own iPhone. And Drake thinks it would be a good idea to approach him and strike up a conversation.
(beginning of post in the protocol!)

Blood is pounding in the ears. It seems that the heart is about to jump out of the chest, and tachycardia, as a diagnosis, is resting somewhere on the sidelines, because the pulse has probably exceeded 120 beats per minute. The flame of eternal delight burns in the eyes, which cannot be eclipsed even by the streetlights of the night St. Petersburg, placed every meter. And the high beam from the headlights serves as additional lighting, highlighting the road for a decent distance.
A standard street point, in most of which the victory was unconditional and so familiar. A standard race, in which the whistle of tires on turns, the roar of the engine and empty roads remained in the subcortex of consciousness, forcing you to scroll through memorable moments in your head for several hours, hoping to endlessly add to the piggy bank of memory. How much effort, time and money was invested in such an experience - it is really hard to count, even Drake himself would not dare to do this.
The distance between him and the enemy was decent, there was no doubt about victory. But the excitement from such a gap no longer covers, but only fades with each meter passed. And the public demands "bread and circuses", like in the days of ancient Roman battles in the Colosseum? And since the people ask - the guy gladly provides this spectacle, but for now without bread, for let them feed themselves.
He brakes in the middle of the road, but doesn't turn off the engine. He does all this exclusively for fun and a little mockery of the opponent, whose car was clearly inferior in power, because it was not for nothing that the guy pumped money into numerous tuning and some tricks. Absolutely everything bears fruit.
Only in the rearview mirror does the light of someone else's headlights appear - for a few seconds Denis accelerates in place, allowing a fox-like grin to spread across his lips, and then takes off, once again leaving his opponent to swallow dust and dirt. He doesn't deserve more, since he challenged him to a race and can't give a worthy rebuff.
The foot presses the gas pedal, the needle on the speedometer gradually flies up, and the hand rests on the handbrake. There is very little time left before the turn, and the excitement finally returns.