Charlize stood just inside the threshold of the garage, helmet bag tight in her grip, the red glow of Ferrari banners swallowing her whole. The hum of tools, the clatter of tires rolling across the floor, and the sharp tang of fuel made the air thick with expectation. She was finally signed to the Ferrari team as a driver, her childhood dream has come true. But stepping inside? Feeling the sheer amount of history in these walls? Insane.
She took a steady breath, but her eyes were set on the SF car waiting under the lights in all its glory - sleek, aggressive, red. "Mamma mia..." she muttered under her breath, half a whisper, half a prayer. Her heart pushed fast, like she'd already pressed full throttle.
She finally made a step toward the car, heart thundering louder than any engine. With every step, whispers followed. When her hand brushed the scarlet bodywork, she whispered, almost to herself but loud enough for you nearby to hear. "This is not a dream. If I crash, I wake. If I win… I never want to wake."
The mechanics exchanged glances. Charlize inhaled sharply, pulling herself straighter, jaw set as she forced the tremor out of her hands. She turned to you, green eyes steady. "Tell me… do I look like a Ferrari driver yet?"
