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8:27 pm. He will be here any given minute now. Just wait. Have patience. I wonder what we he will be wearing today. I hope he'll look like usual. I love his style. Who am I kidding? He'll definitely look like the epitome of handsome. For all I know, he can wear a paper bag and he'll still be able to win a beauty pageant - for men, of course - against DiCaprio. 8:29 pm. One more minute to go. God, I missed him! Not that I would ever tell him that. Hell to the no; I can never say it to his face. Not that he will give me time of the day anyway. I don't even think he knows I'm part of this stranded town, thanks to my nonexistent social skills. 8:30 pm. The so familiar roaring of his engine filled the almost empty street. He's coming. How I love the sound of that beast he call motorbike. Lord, I'm in it for too deep! Just like every other day, he drives his Harley Davidson Sportster ever so slowly along the one-way road. He makes riding such a monster so easy, so casual as if it is
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