"Ain't no escapin' from the heat out here," Darren grumbled. He had spent the entire morning fixing up a convertible that had all but sat on bricks in the yard. He finished the last repair left on the car in front of the shop, as the other garages were occupied with other men and their projects.
Slamming down the hood of the car, the young man sighed. He wiped a salty cascade of sweat from his brow with the handkerchief in his pocket, then carelessly tossed it aside. He was too tired, too hot, too pissed off at how many repairs he had to do on one car to think straight. "Could use a beer, can't ya?" Asked a familiar voice. David felt a spot on his exposed arm flesh suddenly go cold. Instinctively, he took the beer from his workmate. "Thanks Jeff."
The sound of the beer cracking open was music to his ears. Hastily, he sucked the can down, hardly stopping for breath. "Been a long day, but it ain't over." Jeff observed verbally. "Damn straight." Darren concurred, after setting his beer can down on the ground.
Darren decided to allow himself a break before addressing any new clients. He was dressed simply, a greasy tank top, and jean shorts that reached his knees, standard tennis shoes. It made little difference in the summer heat, and he retreated to the shop while Jeff continued to wander around and not get any work done.
Darren took the unoccupied seat behind the counter in which one would greet the new customers. A big metal fan sat on the floor next to the chair, precisely why he decided to sit there. It did little more than blow hot air, but it was still better than the stationary staleness of the air outside.
It was a tiny building, with one door to enter and exit out of. A mat that had been trampled upon for years was placed underneath and read: "Welcome!" The shop had worn wooden flooring and the panels on the wall were in the same condition, with cracking white paint. Attached to it were several garages, and it was the garages that took up most of the area that the business occupied. Vehicle parts, those of vintage car models especially, were hung upon the walls as decorations. One or two shelves next to the door displayed key and motor oil types for purchase.
Comfort, though very little, was achieved in that raggedy wooden chair in which Darren sat. He was right of the shop entrance door, and wasn't really keen on greeting customers, but it appeared that no one was in the shop but him now anyway.
Slamming down the hood of the car, the young man sighed. He wiped a salty cascade of sweat from his brow with the handkerchief in his pocket, then carelessly tossed it aside. He was too tired, too hot, too pissed off at how many repairs he had to do on one car to think straight. "Could use a beer, can't ya?" Asked a familiar voice. David felt a spot on his exposed arm flesh suddenly go cold. Instinctively, he took the beer from his workmate. "Thanks Jeff."
The sound of the beer cracking open was music to his ears. Hastily, he sucked the can down, hardly stopping for breath. "Been a long day, but it ain't over." Jeff observed verbally. "Damn straight." Darren concurred, after setting his beer can down on the ground.
Darren decided to allow himself a break before addressing any new clients. He was dressed simply, a greasy tank top, and jean shorts that reached his knees, standard tennis shoes. It made little difference in the summer heat, and he retreated to the shop while Jeff continued to wander around and not get any work done.
Darren took the unoccupied seat behind the counter in which one would greet the new customers. A big metal fan sat on the floor next to the chair, precisely why he decided to sit there. It did little more than blow hot air, but it was still better than the stationary staleness of the air outside.
It was a tiny building, with one door to enter and exit out of. A mat that had been trampled upon for years was placed underneath and read: "Welcome!" The shop had worn wooden flooring and the panels on the wall were in the same condition, with cracking white paint. Attached to it were several garages, and it was the garages that took up most of the area that the business occupied. Vehicle parts, those of vintage car models especially, were hung upon the walls as decorations. One or two shelves next to the door displayed key and motor oil types for purchase.
Comfort, though very little, was achieved in that raggedy wooden chair in which Darren sat. He was right of the shop entrance door, and wasn't really keen on greeting customers, but it appeared that no one was in the shop but him now anyway.
