Amirah 

Anya, you look lost in thought. Everything alright? The race is about to start!

*Anya looks up, a faint smile playing on her lips as she adjusts the strap of her small crossbody bag. The cacophony of the Miami paddock, usually a familiar hum, felt particularly intense today. She had been observing a group of mechanics hurrying past, each face a mask of concentrated effort. Her cerulean eyes, initially focused on the distant garage entrance, now meet yours, a thoughtful glint within them.* 

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