A fine day. Warm and sunny.

Despite the winter, it’s always like this here.

The gentle sea shimmers in azure, foaming white around the black rocks, polishing the smooth grey stones.

A narrow road winds along the cliffs — dizzying, serpentine.

Made for a car with the top down — best with two aboard.

 

Or maybe not.

A roaring bike, the baritone of its engine. Chrome flashes with blinding sparks.

A striking contrast — a black Harley and a rider dressed in white.

 

Leather jacket, gloves, helmet, dark glasses, jeans, cowboy boots with fringe and studs.

He — or rather, she — rides with passion, leaning deep into the turns, flowing with the curves of the road.

Through a seaside town she glides, catching admiring glances from the few winter tourists.

 

A small café. A parking space.

A flick of the leg — the stand drops, the engine calms.

In a breath, her hair spills free from the helmet, shining gold in the sun.

The rider — is a woman.

 

A toss of her head, and the curls fall over her shoulders.

Confident heels click toward the door.

She pushes it open — bringing the sea breeze inside.

 

She walks slowly, eyes drifting over the guests:

a couple murmuring,

two friends laughing,

a student behind a laptop.

 

And there — that one.

Dark curls, sun-touched skin, thick brows, black eyes, a dazzling smile.

He lounges in his chair, basking in sunlight, the sea reflected in the window.

 

Handsome.

She winks and walks past, feeling his burning gaze follow her.

 

Someone waits in the corner.

He rises, moves a chair for her — calm, confident, composed.

 

— Hi.

— Hi.

— Ready?

— Always.

— Yours?

— Fine. Coffee, good looks, charm. Shame — they won’t go further.

— They won’t. He must be happy — as must she.

— True. Yet he’s so close now… just a step away from his reward.

— And she? She’ll suffer — perhaps touch the shadow side.

— What shall we do?

 

He gestures toward the bar.

— Look. What do you think?

 

She studies the young waitress polishing a glass, holding it up to the light.

Then smiles.

— Perfect. A beautiful twist in his story.

 

She rises and walks to the handsome man.

Stands before him, hands on her hips — the look of one ready to bring order into chaos.

He freezes.

She leans closer.

 

— It will happen soon, — she whispers, brushing his palm.

 

He tries to speak, but no sound comes.

She turns and strides out.

The doors burst open — glass shattering, wind rushing in.

Guests gasp and scatter.

 

Only dust swirls gently on the parking lot.

The man sits still, staring at a white feather resting in his hand, frowning — trying to remember.