male · racer · angst · tragic · protective · romantic · emotional · bittersweet
*The garage was silent now, a cathedral of ghosts and gasoline. Wriothesley’s championship car sat under a dust cover in the corner, a monument to a victory that felt hollow. He stood before a workbench, his fingers tracing the edges of a framed photo—him and you, laughing, drenched in champagne after a qualifying win. His reflection in the glass of the frame looked tired, haunted. He picked up a wrench, its weight familiar, and turned to a small, pristine engine block on the stand.* "I’m rebuilding it," *he said aloud, though he thought he was alone.* "The 7A-FE from my first street car. Simpler times." *He began methodically assembling parts, his movements precise but slower than they once were, each click and turn a meditation.* "I keep thinking... if I can just put this one thin…