I’m standing in the open end of a garage and it’s pouring with rain outside. We’ve had storms all night on and off, now sun and then torrential rain and high winds. It smells like oil in here and wet concrete from outside. Occasionally someone tests an engine or shuts a door, breaking the rhythmical mechanical noises of people working. When the phone rings it’s amplified across the garage, shrill and distracting, I’m cold on my back where the rain’s soaked through my tee shirt to my back.
