Writing Prompt: Write a story about this picture (below). Whose scooter is this? Where is he? She? Who is that across the street? What happens next? What’s the story? Tell it in exactly 250 words.

Will Capra stood on the far side of the intersection, hands buried deep in his jean pockets. Hard rain tumbled down in globules, bouncing off his shoulders and splattering his neck and face, sending shivers rippling through him. The night air was already cold, laced with late autumnal chill, and the rain made it worse. Morgan stirred beside him. She was wrapped up tight in a thick wool coat, which insulated her from the cold. She stood motionless, her gaze fixed like Will’s on the scooter parked across the intersection, just up Fifty-eighth.

The scooter was a relic, a throwback—just the sort of thing that would appeal to Elliott. The hacker had a penchant for being contradictory. He had the fastest fingers on the eastern seaboard, with more accounts cracked than any other console jockey. Yet Elliott dressed and lived in opposition of modernity. The scooter was just his latest retro chic purchase.

At least it made Elliott easy to spot, Will thought.

Will shot Morgan a look from the corner of his eye, and on cue, she detached herself from the storefront she was leaning against. Together, they cut across the intersection towards Elliott’s scooter. Will yanked his hands out of his jean pockets and fished something out from inside his coat. Despite the steady hiss accompanying the curtain of rain, Morgan still faintly heard the click and snap of Will’s gun as he thumbed off the safety and checked his magazine.