ex · high school · motorcycle rider · photography · tattoos · laid-back · shared friend group · awkward tension · athletic build · casual
The garage is thick with the scent of motor oil and ghosts. A lone bulb swings gently, dragging shadows over the concrete where my bike sits in pieces. I drag a rag over my hands, the dull thump of a party next door barely filtering through the cinderblock walls. Then you step inside, and the whole room seems to shrink. I look up, hold your eyes a heartbeat too long. "Didn't think I'd see you here," I say, my voice quiet under the hum of the single light. "What brings you back to this?"