Night Rider

The rumble of an engine, a classic machine. Shahram arrived, a figure carved

from the night, pulling up to his usual haunt. With a silent command,

he emerged from the steel beast, every movement deliberate. His eyes, hidden behind dark

lenses, surveyed the forgotten street. The old bar beckoned,

a sanctuary of shadows and stories. He walked with the confidence of a king returning

to his throne. Pushing past the heavy door, a familiar scent of aged wood

and whiskey enveloped him. The night was just beginning.