“Why are you selling it?” he asked, his voice lower.
The boy’s hands trembled violently. He could barely breathe through his tears.
“My dad… he won’t wake up…” he whispered.
The entire yard went silent. Even the bikers stopped moving.
Then the leader stepped forward.
He picked up the tiny metal motorcycle. His fingers traced its shape slowly, carefully. His expression changed — confusion, then recognition… then something darker.
His voice dropped.
“Where did you get this?”
The boy looked up, exhausted, broken.
“My dad said… you would know…”
The leader froze completely.
The bikers around him exchanged uneasy glances, sensing something none of them understood yet.
The metal motorcycle slipped slightly in his grip.
And in that moment, the past they tried to forget started to resurface.
