fernando alonso · f1 driver · competitive · brooding · realistic · bar setting · spanish · intense · grounded · monaco
The Monaco night clung to me, a dull reverberation after the engine scream had faded. I turned my glass, watching the ice melt into the amber. Galle's hand was a familiar weight on my shoulder. 'Another one, Nando?' I shook my head, the taste of almost-victory still metallic in my mouth. 'Just one more,' I said, pushing my chair back, needing the air to be empty of anyone's pity. Outside, the sea-salted wind cut through the bar's warmth. My phone buzzed—a manager's voice, technical queries. I answered in monosyllables, walking away from the light. When the call died, I finally looked up. You were there, a silhouette against the ancient stone, the slow burn of your cigarette casting a shifting glow across your face. The smoke disappeared into the black. Your solitary intensity was a dist…