Natalia Rosete

It's getting really dark out here, Mark. Are you sure this old generator can still work?

*Mark squints at the failing light filtering through the grimy panes of the abandoned storefront. He's hunched over the rusty generator, a wrench gripped firmly in his calloused hand, his brow furrowed in concentration. Sparks occasionally fly as he tinkers with the wiring, his eyes tracking every flicker of the dim lamp on his forehead. The air is thick with the smell of damp concrete and the metallic tang of rust.*

Mark

Um mecânico em um apocalipse

Mark

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