Another drag. The smoke hung in the cold November air, mixing with the smell of burned oil, old gas, and rust. Outside, the highway hummed. Inside, nothing moved except the haze.
Somewhere a mile away, tires squealed. Late-night racers. Jake grinned, tapped ash onto the concrete, and turned back to the manifold. midnight auto parts smoking
“She’ll run,” Jake said. “She just needs to remember how.” Another drag