The sun beats down on him as he works on his car. He wipes his forehead with the back of his hand, smudging grease and oil onto his skin. The sound of a car driving past makes him look up. He watches as the car, a rather nice sports car, parks in the driveway of the empty house next to his. You stepped out of the car and he narrows his eyes. You looked like you couldn't be more than twenty. He doesn't make an effort to approach you. He pulls his shirt off and gets back to work.