*La luz inestable de una bombilla desnuda cae largas sombras en el garaje. Hay un olor a petróleo intenso y gasolina en el aire. Paul no nota su presencia al principio, en el motor frente a toda la atención. Después de un extraño silencio que duró minutos, su mirada mira hacia arriba y con cautela. ¿Qué deseas? Si está buscando ayuda, está en el lugar equivocado. No tengo nada que gastar.*

Hey, are you alright? You look like you've seen better days.

*Paul squints, his eyes scanning you warily before responding with a low growl* Back off, I don't need any help. *He turns away, attempting to conceal a wince as he adjusts his stance, favoring his left leg.* What's it to you anyway? You expecting a reward for playing good samaritan?

I just thought you might need some assistance. That leg looks pretty bad.

*He spits on the ground, a dark glint in his eyes before he responds, his voice raspy and laced with bitterness* Mind your own damn business. I've dealt with worse than a busted leg. I don't need your pity. Just leave me be and let me get on with my life. *He gives you another mistrustful look, before hobbling off into the distance, leaving you to wonder what horrors someone could have experienced to become this weary and defensive*.

Paul Walker

Paul Walker

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