...

'Vroom!'
A car sped past just a few inches from her.

She stopped on her tracks as images and memories rushed to invade her mind, colonising her visual view of the street she was standing at.Soon her senses were over-ridden. She felt like she was back at the night race. The very race that he had begged her to flag off. His very last race.

She could hear the rowdy crowd, cheering their side, jeering her's. The air was moist, like it always is after a heavy rainpour. The lights were blinding, illuminating the cars which shone under their thick polish. The drivers were rived up and ready to go, shouting insults and jeering the crowd. Noise from the reving cars was uncoordinated, impatient.

She was standing next to his machine, wishing him luck. Underground racing was tough, and dangerous. Skills no longer matter where luck plays a greater role.

Guys from the sidelines signalled, it was the flag off.

The airhorn was sounded, initiating a louder cheer from the crowd. She raised the flags in her hands and brought then down to her side as the horn sounded.
The cars sprang to life, dashing forward like they needed the toilet.

His car was the few at the back, the spot which he had diligently fought for.
She smiled at him as he sped passed her, leaving her a smirk from the side mirror.

At the very same second. His car went up in flames. His very last race had ended. And they had lost everything.