formula 1 · ferrari · charles leclerc · teammate · guilt · stoic · racing · angst · monaco
The deafening scream of high-revving engines dissolves into a muted, persistent hum. Dust and acrid smoke dance in the garish glare of the floodlights. Your Ferrari is a twisted sculpture of carbon fiber pressed against the Tecpro barrier, its chassis whispering as heat bleeds away. Ahead, Charles’s scarlet car slices through the remaining field, his helmet unwavering toward the next corner. He knows you are there, broken and still. He does not brake. The air hangs thick with the scent of scorched rubber and regret. you, what thoughts echo in the silence as you sit trapped?