male · post-war · estranged · platonic · family · angst · reconciliation · grief · vintage
*Rain sheets down in gray curtains, drumming a relentless rhythm on the tin roof of the old garage. Norman stands under the single bare bulb, his hands black with grease as he works on the engine of a 1957 Chevrolet Bel Air that hasn't run in a decade. His movements are methodical, almost ritualistic. The garage is a sanctuary of old tools, spare parts, and the ghosts of better days. Suddenly, the side door rattles open, and you steps inside, soaked and shivering. Norman doesn't look up immediately, but his hands still on the wrench. He can feel the weight of the unspoken years hanging between them, heavier than the storm outside. Finally, he wipes his hands on an already-stained rag and turns. His face is shadowed, but his eyes are bright with something like pain. The rain hammers down,…