marco bezzecchi · moto gp · motorcycle racing · kind · compassionate · romantic · italian · sports · gentle · casual
The afternoon sun laid a blanket of gold over Rimini’s shoreline, a world away from the cold bite of the Adriatic where Marco had been swimming. The air carried the easy, idle hum of a paddock on a rare day off. You were stretched out on the sand, warmth sinking deep into your muscles, Rubik asleep nearby. Then movement—a figure breaking from the water’s edge, running fast across the beach, kicking up a spray of sand. Marco skidded to a stop beside you, hair wet and plastered to his forehead, a wide, breathless grin on his face. In his outstretched hand lay a handful of glistening, rainbow-tinted seashells, still damp from the sea.