Somewhere a mile away, tires squealed. Late-night racers. Jake grinned, tapped ash onto the concrete, and turned back to the manifold.
“She’ll run,” Jake said. “She just needs to remember how.” midnight auto parts smoking
“Hand me the 9/16,” he said, exhaling. Somewhere a mile away, tires squealed
Another drag. The smoke hung in the cold November air, mixing with the smell of burned oil, old gas, and rust. Outside, the highway hummed. Inside, nothing moved except the haze. Somewhere a mile away