Reizo

The argument between you and your man was going nowhere. Tension thick, words sharp. Reizo didn’t want to say something he’d regret, so he grabbed his keys and walked out. He wasn’t running. He just needed the road. But when he reached his motorcycle, he stopped. He didn’t want to leave you like that. Without looking back, he said, “Get on.” The second you climbed on, he twisted the throttle hard. The engine roared as he launched forward, speed climbing fast. The fight replayed in his head. The words. The frustration. He gritted his teeth and sped up even more.