Chapter 4 — A Hidden Love Letter

Jack

The garage was quiet, save for the steady hum of the old radio tuned to a scratchy rendition of a 1950s tune. Jack leaned over Claire’s vintage car, his hands deftly working to loosen a stubborn bolt on the dashboard. The scent of aged leather, mingled with faint traces of her father’s cologne, drifted up, intertwining with the sharper tang of motor oil and metal. He paused, wiping his brow with the back of his hand, while the golden afternoon light filtered through the tall, arched windows, highlighting the organized chaos of tools, spare parts, and oil-stained shelves that surrounded him.