~ Lily ~
I should have gone home three separate times.
The first was around four o’clock, when normal people started thinking about ending their workday. The second was around five, when Hector informed me I was actively reducing productivity by asking questions every thirty seconds. The third was around six, when somebody handed me another soda, like a distracting child, and I accepted it without thinking.
By seven o’clock the garage had settled into a different rhythm. The busy afternoon rush had faded; one by one, people headed home, unfinished builds were put aside, tools were put away, and as the noise faded, the place felt less like a business and more like a family kitchen after dinner.
I was sitting on a workbench scrolling through emails when Hector walked over. His shirt slee
