Mechanic
The truck rolled forward, inside the desolate garage. Another job to be done, another long and hard day to get through. I walk to the side of it and slide under it on the creeper, the wheels creating a loud grinding sound, like sandpaper against my eardrums as they slide on the cold floor. I looked to the rear end as if it were calling out to me, saying, “I’m the first of many to come.” I heard it in my head like a dead whisper of a memory long forgotten, calling out to be heard and remembered. I slid back out, the same tedious sound was made once again by the wheels. Standing to my feet, I sauntered over to the toolbox, sliding open a drawer. The drawer let out a echoing creek, and then a thud as it opened before me. I reached in grabbing a wrench of adequate size for the job, creating a metal shuffling noise as I removed it from the others. I left the drawer open as I wouldn’t need the wrench very long. I slid back under to the same effect, as the noise assailed my ears. I placed the wrench upon the bolt, turning it with all my force. I kept turning over, and over, and over, until the bolt fell to the ground with a clang. I did this several times leaving a few bolts to hold the rear end in. I once again got out and was tormented by that damned sound from the wheels.