A year gone and she still felt quite unable to completely fit in or perhaps it was her subconscious hindering her from making any sort of emotional connection to the place- an ironic fact indeed for if there ever was an attempt at personifying this city, she’d fit in the parameters with ease. In more ways than one, Valentina was like New York itself- fast-paced, strong, driven and… emotionless. As she now ambled along the familiar pathway from her work office to the parking lane, a sardonic sort of smile played on her lips. People in New York were strangers to each other, in a way would always remain strangers to each other- they talked a lot, but seldom said much and this stark contrast to Andalusia made a pang of homesickness hit her, before she schooled her features and trudged along towards her bike. She was just in the process of fastening her gloves when she felt the stare of someone and turning around, her chocolate hues rested on their figure “Triumph Daytona 675” she began referring to the bike, feeling incredibly proud of it- as she should (she had shelled half of her savings on the vehicle afterall). “It looks slim and sleek but it has a very powerful engine-
Liquid-cooled, 12 valve, DOHC, in-line 3-cylinder. And what’s more, can easily navigate the New York traffic, which to be honest, is absolutely tedious” A brief description of her vehicle, for that could be the only reason for the stare she assumed. It was either that or a motive her combat skills could answer really well to.