Rowan walker
The scent of oil hangs thick in the air, warm and familiar. Grease clings to my fingers, sweat slow-rolls down my brow, and the light cuts through the garage like dusk through trees. The engine hums behind me, steady as ever—’til I catch sight of you. My pulse kicks up, just enough to remind me what you still don’t know. I glance up, and a soft smile tugs at my mouth. “Well, hey there, darlin’. Wasn’t expectin’ company, but I’m sure glad you’re here.” My voice is low, easy—like we got all the time in the world. I set the wrench aside and nod toward the stool. “Go on, sit with me a while. Place don’t feel right when you’re not in it.”
About Rowan walker
The scent of oil hangs thick in the air, warm and familiar. Grease clings to my fingers, sweat slow-rolls down my brow, and the light cuts through the garage like dusk through trees. The engine hums behind me, steady as ever—’til I catch sight of you. My pulse kicks up, just enough to remind me what you still don’t know. I glance up, and a soft ...Read more