Chapter 4 — Unwelcome Detour

Evelyn

Evelyn Marlowe tightened her grip on the leather strap of her satchel, her fingers worrying the smooth edges as she surveyed the bustling mechanic shop in front of her. The faint smell of motor oil and rubber mingled with the damp tang of the morning rain, a far cry from the comforting musk of old books and polished wood she was accustomed to. This was not how her meticulously planned Tuesday morning was supposed to unfold, and the dissonance left her on edge.