Holding My Breath
I caught myself holding my breath, so wrapped up in the moment that even something as natural as breathing had slipped my mind. The air between the trucker and the bikers was thick, charged with something that wasn’t quite hostility but wasn’t far from it either. No one knew how this would end, but we were all suspended in the moment, waiting—pulled by the invisible thread of tension. With each passing second, the weight of anticipation grew heavier, pressing down on us like the calm before a storm, or maybe, just maybe, the dawn of an unexpected truce.
Holding My Breath
Shadows Stretch
The sun dipped lower, casting golden light that stretched long, creeping shadows over the trucks and bikes. The warm glow felt almost deceptive, too serene for the tension thrumming in the air. It was as if the scene had been carefully framed, each figure placed with purpose, each shadow stretching forward like an unseen force, pressing toward an inevitable moment. The shifting light only deepened the suspense, making it feel like we were caught in a slow-burning play where no one—not even the main players—knew how it would end.
Shadows Stretch
