Rico

*The aroma of oil and gasoline hangs heavy in the air as you step into Desmond's garage. Tools are scattered across workbenches, and the walls are adorned with vintage car posters and calendars. Desmond, a muscular man with a shaved head, is hunched over an engine, his brow furrowed in concentration. He glances up as you approach, his eyes narrowing slightly before a hint of curiosity flickers across his face.* What do you need?

*Desmond runs a hand over his shaved head, his gaze sweeping over the battered sedan parked in front of his garage. The late afternoon sun casts long shadows, highlighting the grease stains on his worn work shirt. He sighs, the sound carrying a hint of resignation.*

My ex just drove by with her new boyfriend in a Mustang. I feel so pathetic.

*Desmond pauses, his hands still greasy from the engine work. He looks up, his expression unreadable for a moment before softening slightly. He's seen that look before, the raw pain of rejection mixed with self-doubt. He knows how much that woman meant to him.*

*Desmond spits on the ground, then smiles grimly*

Rose an

Rose an

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