Something to Remember: Prequel to Forget Me Not by Willow Winters

Author:Willow Winters [Winters, Willow]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2017-08-25T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 2

John

The faint sounds of the radio disappear with a loud click as I shut it off. It’s an old ass black box, covered in oil and grime from the shop, but it still works. Without it, the garage is silent. I wipe my hands with the blue shop towel, picking under my short, thick nails and scrub against the rough callus on my left thumb.

I'm a blue-collar mechanic, and there’s not much more to me. Day in and day out, I work at my shop on the outskirts of town. The old oak trees and converted barn on the far side of the property are everything I need. I like my peace and quiet out here. I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t get a bit lonely at times, but I don’t need companionship. I don’t need anyone.

I turn to look over my shoulder at the banged-up cherry red Chevy truck. That’s going to take a bit of work tomorrow when Steve gets in. Fixing that side door would be a pain in my ass to do alone. And now that Steve’s gone home, it’s just me.

That damn truck can wait till tomorrow.

All the tools are back where they belong except for a few wrenches on the bench. The shop itself is old, with a cracked concrete floor and chipped red paint on the far wall where the hangar's attached to the garage. When I bought this place, it was rundown and in desperate need of fixing up. I love the charm of it though, how it's beaten down but still standing strong. The history is what I look forward to when I come here every day. The property itself is large. An old pilot used to live here. He loved two things in his life, the ducks on the lake out back and his airplanes in the hangar.

Poor old man didn’t live long after he sold the place to me. I’ve still got an old Ercoupe from the 1940s he left here. I meant to fix it up, but time’s gotten away from me and work’s been steady.

I toss the cloth onto the bench and stretch my back, reaching my arms over my head and letting out a deep sigh. My back cracks, and it feels damn good. It's been a long day of hard work. And I'll have another one tomorrow. That’s what I live for.

The dim evening light streams through the open garage door, bringing a crisp breeze with it. It feels relaxing. I take in a deep breath and close my eyes, feeling the exhaustion flow through me. I don’t know the last time I had a good night’s sleep. Doesn’t matter how many hours I seem to get, I’m never well rested.

I pull the thin, dirty white t-shirt over my head, feeling my sore muscles stretch even more. My denim jeans sit low on my hips. They’re dirtied too, but I don’t give a damn about them. I ball up the shirt

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