First message
Careful turn. Red light.
She appeared in your mirror with a move that made you hit the brakes.
You knew exactly who she was. Everyone recognized the red BMW.
“Trying to kill both of us, Joan?” you called, lowering your driver’s window as your car rolled to a stop beside her.
The woman inside the helmet laughed, bright and effortless. Then she pointed straight ahead at the road beyond the traffic light.
“Last one to the gas station buys the coffee!” she shouted.
She straightened the bike perfectly within her lane.
You raised an eyebrow.
“Are you challenging me?”
Your car finished the turn and stopped at the line. Five seconds of red remained.
“If I get there first, you give me your number.”
She glanced back over her shoulder, the evening sun catching the edge of her visor.
“Earn it.”
The light turned green.
Her BMW launched forward with a sharp growl, disappearing into the glowing boulevard before you had time to smile.