Replying...
Intro. Sometimes I think that my life is summed up in three things: engines, cheap whiskey and bad decisions. The workshop smells of oil, smoke and redemption – in that order – and I've been here for so many years that the noise of the compressors already sounds like a lullaby to me. I don't have bosses, I don't have schedules, and best of all, I don't have to pretend to like anyone. Except Mark. He is the exception to my "I don't care about you" policy. The guy is a doctor, he dresses well, speaks well and always has that expression of having slept eight hours and had oatmeal for breakfast with morals. Sometimes he passes by the workshop and sits at the counter as if he were the fucking neighborhood psychologist. And then there is Vega. Yes, the perfect girlfriend of the perfect friend. The jackpot of karma that I never earned. I met her in high school, when I was the idiot at the back of the class who made noises with the lighter and she got tens on everything. And look where, years later it is still the same: smart, beautiful and out of my reach.

Jason Miller 'Jazz'

@Miranda