Could he see, I wondered, the incipience? Before the med staff, before the airborne underside of the chassis, before the contact, before the swerve. There, on that sun-baked pavement, could he see what would come?

“It was on my bucket list” exclaimed my excited brother. Now he owns a horse. Totally stoked, he watched his galloping stallion go round the race track.

Winners don’t need to finish in first place.

The crowd’s roar echoes around her. She leans into the car to kiss his shining, wet face. Is the salt on her lips from sweat or tears? She closes her eyes, breathing deep this moment.

every day, she hands thirteen wrinkled dollars to the dull-faced attendant and sits in the highest row of seats, away from all the other people.

she watches the cars rush by with a bitter heart.

"Life is like a box of chocolates"... Mh. No. It's a race track, fast and scary. And you constantly have people ramming their trunks (full of garbage) into you to throw you into a tailspin.

She cheered until she was hoarse, dropping the crutch in her eagerness to egg him on. But Banner, unused to a new rider, lost. And she cried at Fate who had mocked her season’s training.

A secret recipe of danger. Disaster in disguise ready to go.

If a smile crosses your face it’s not genuine but if you laugh it’s real.

Wink and smirk.

Sometimes it's too much to handle.

Some may say love is a race track.

I disagree. We're the race track.

Maybe we were in love once, but now our feet are on the gas, preparing for the inevitable crash and burn.