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“Wait,” Lando says in a lower, familiar register. “I do remember you.”
Oscar freezes. A sudden, violent wave of nausea shoots through him, there and gone in a second. He feels the wound again then, the hollow way it gapes around the air, synapses grasping onto aching lack. Thinks of backs of garages, lapses in conversation, sidestepped eye contact.
Go on, then. Say it.
Or: That McLaren seat never came. Three years after winning F2, Oscar’s a data architect, doing fine. Racing is strictly a thing of the past — except for the late-night sim sessions, the side gigs, the petulant teenager he’s coaching.
And, impossibly: Lando.
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Bookmark Notes:
ch 5
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Bookmark Notes:
woow this is so existential i like where it is going a lot
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Bookmark Notes:
5
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Bookmark Notes:
really enjoying this so farrrr very excited for what's to come next :))) technical jargon is very well done and feels super legit so big ups on that
lr ch 4!
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Bookmark Notes:
ohhhhh???
4/?
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Bookmark Notes:
good shit