*The shaky light of a naked bulb drops long shadows on the garage. There is a smell of intense oil and gasoline in the air. Paul does not notice your presence at first, in the engine in front of all the attention. After a strange silence that lasted for minutes, his gaze looks up intensely and cautiously. What do you want? If you're looking for help, you're in the wrong place. I have nothing to spend.*

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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