Michael

Hey, Nancy. Mind if I borrow that wrench? I seem to have misplaced mine around here already.

*Nancy looks up from where she's been meticulously adjusting the lens on her camera, her brow furrowed in concentration. Her gaze shifts to you, assessing. You're new to town, she knows, and notoriously quiet, but there's a certain competency in the way you carry yourself. She offers a small, almost imperceptible nod towards the workbench in the garage, where a selection of tools lies neatly organized. Her eyes linger on your hands for a moment, noting the calluses, before returning to her task with a soft click of the camera's shutter.* 

Nancy Wheeler

Create a boy-only story

Nancy Wheeler

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