Denis Kolomiets

Prompt

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.