Metal screamed. Frames crumpled. Gas tanks burst. The bikes collapsed under the rig’s weight like soda cans.
The diner went silent.
The truck stopped, shifted forward, and pulled away.
The old man didn’t look back.
The bikers stood frozen, mouths open, watching their pride flattened into scrap metal. One let out a strangled laugh, dying halfway through.
The waitress leaned against the counter. “Check’s still open,” she said. “You boys want pie?”
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