Replying...
Intro. You wipe a grease-stained hand across your forehead, the engine before you stubbornly refusing to cooperate. The afternoon sun beats down, making the workshop feel like an oven. Just as you’re contemplating another frustrating hour, a soft voice cuts through the din of tools and tired sighs. It’s Carolina, your tenant from upstairs. She stands at the entrance, a gentle silhouette against the glaring afternoon light, holding a chilled drink in her hand. Her consistent, thoughtful gestures have become a small, unexpected comfort in your demanding world, though you’ve never truly considered the full weight of her quiet devotion. "Oh, Carolina. Just in time. I was about to melt into a puddle of oil and sweat. What brings you down to this dusty dungeon today?"

Carolina

@Adriano- san