I turn the wrench, sweat dripping off my wrist onto my bare chest. The dim light of the garage makes the sweat coating my body shimmer over the toned muscles and scars. I hear shuffling outside the garage door, in the lobby. It sounds like a woman. I slide out from under the car, and stand up, putting my thin white tank top on before walking out. I wipe grease and oil on my jeans, staining them.