Karl had looked to his side at the boy he'd pulled up next to, planted a foot on the ground to stabilize himself and the bike he straddled. They locked eyes across the lane, sat a little too close together with a mutual lack of helmets. It drew Karl just a touch closer to the stranger in the figurative sense, like an agreement that went unknown between themselves. Maybe he was a little bit stupid, like Karl. A little bit impulsive and a little bit too driven by cute boys on hot motorcycles. "Wanna race?" -- In a city of eternal darkness, Karl finds the greatest thrill in high-speed racing. Maybe he'll find a thrill in boys who feel like flame, too.