There was something beautiful about the way the motorcycle sped past.
Ann-Marie watched the vehicle as it sped into the distance ahead of her. Its shining chrome gleamed in the sun, turning it into a veritable shooting star. A thin cloud of dust swirled in its wake, but that didn't dull the machine's sparkle. Its owner, a middle-aged man, sat astride it as proud as a sea-captain, his leather-covered arms spread wide to let his hands rest on the handlebars and his long hair billowing behind him.
And then he and his mechanical steed were gone, leaving Ann-Marie gazing after them.
She should have kept walking. After all, she was supposed to be hitch-hiking, and she wasn't going to get anywhere standing in one place and gawping after some Hell's Angel. But something about the sight she had just seen stilled her.
A shooting star.
Ann-Marie nearly started walking again, swinging one foot out in front of her. But then she hesitated and put it back down onto the dust. The truth was, she wanted