Josh Point of View
The grinding sound of metal against metal filled the air of the garage as Josh's uncle worked on a car door at the back.
Josh himself was laid out on a creeper beneath a vibrant red Polo, his arms twisted at an awkward angle as he mounted something to the engine block. Sweat trickled down his temples, pooling in the greasy strands of his hair. He could imagine how disgusting his hair looked now – matted with oil, sweat, and grime – but he couldn't care less.
The work demanded his full attention.
He grunted as a bolt refused to thread properly, his fingers slipping in the grease.
"f**k," he muttered under his breath. The bolt was too small. He needed a larger one from the toolbox across the garage. Pushing with his feet, Josh slid out from under the car on the wh
