Post by ᴄʀʏsᴛᴀʟғʀᴏsᴛ on Dec 1, 2014 20:52:45 GMT -5
Tell me, tell me, where I'm going,
I don't know where I've been.
Tell me, tell me, won't you tell me,
And then tell me again.
My heart is breaking,
My body's aching and I don't know where to go.
Cameron wiped his greasy hands on a rag and then used his arm to wipe the sweat off his forehead, careful not to get any grease on his forehead. He'd been a mechanic long enough to know how to avoid that. He threw down the rag and bade farewell to his latest customer. He usually had one or two per day, sometimes more, sometimes none. He'd gone days without a single person come in before. That's what he got for running a tiny, one-man-show business. People rarely wanted to come in. The only way he scraped by was his prices were really low, and the people who'd been in before knew he did good work. His customers were all regulars or word-of-mouths.
He watched the man drive his car out of the parking lot and then went to the bathroom to wash up. He scrubbed his hands clean, then his arms, all the way up to his elbow. He grabbed a fresh shirt out of a bag he'd brought in with him and changed. Then he ran his fingers through his dark hair, slicking it back, and stared at his reflection in the mirror. God, he was too young to have this life. Parents dead, working as a mechanic with barely enough money to not starve. He lived in the damned garage. He'd been alone for a long time now. He didn't have any friends to spend his free time with... not that he actually had any free time. When he wasn't working, he was sleeping. End of story.
With a sigh, he left the bathroom just in time for another car to pull up to the bay door.
I don't know where I've been.
Tell me, tell me, won't you tell me,
And then tell me again.
My heart is breaking,
My body's aching and I don't know where to go.
Cameron wiped his greasy hands on a rag and then used his arm to wipe the sweat off his forehead, careful not to get any grease on his forehead. He'd been a mechanic long enough to know how to avoid that. He threw down the rag and bade farewell to his latest customer. He usually had one or two per day, sometimes more, sometimes none. He'd gone days without a single person come in before. That's what he got for running a tiny, one-man-show business. People rarely wanted to come in. The only way he scraped by was his prices were really low, and the people who'd been in before knew he did good work. His customers were all regulars or word-of-mouths.
He watched the man drive his car out of the parking lot and then went to the bathroom to wash up. He scrubbed his hands clean, then his arms, all the way up to his elbow. He grabbed a fresh shirt out of a bag he'd brought in with him and changed. Then he ran his fingers through his dark hair, slicking it back, and stared at his reflection in the mirror. God, he was too young to have this life. Parents dead, working as a mechanic with barely enough money to not starve. He lived in the damned garage. He'd been alone for a long time now. He didn't have any friends to spend his free time with... not that he actually had any free time. When he wasn't working, he was sleeping. End of story.
With a sigh, he left the bathroom just in time for another car to pull up to the bay door.