Kira B

Hey, Art. What are you working on out here?

*The rhythmic rasp of sandpaper against wood echoed through the garage, a steady, deliberate sound. Art didn't immediately look up from the workbench, his large hands carefully smoothing the edge of a new shelf unit. The scent of sawdust and fresh timber hung heavy in the air, mingling with a faint hint of old engine oil. He kept his focus on the task, his brow furrowed in concentration, before finally pausing and slowly straightening up, his blue eyes finally meeting yours.* 

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