I wiped my hands on a rag and tried to stay calm. “Sir, I explained yesterday—there were two issues. You approved one repair.”
“I don’t care about your explanations,” he snapped. “You should’ve fixed everything.”
“I can’t fix what you didn’t authorize.”
He shook his head, already walking out.
“This place is a joke,” he said. “I’m leaving a review.”
The door slammed behind him.
And just like that, the day ended the same way it started.
With someone angry.
And me… too tired to argue.
The Moment Everything Changed
After everyone left, I grabbed a broom and started cleaning.
It’s something I do when I need to think.
Or when I need to stop thinking.
I was sweeping under one of the lifts when the broom hit something solid.
I bent down.
Picked it up.
A wallet.
Old leather. Heavy.
I opened it without thinking.
And then I froze.
Cash.
A lot of it.
More than I’d seen in one place in a long time.
For a moment, the world got very quiet.
Because suddenly, I wasn’t thinking about engines or customers or anything else.
I was thinking about what that money could do.
Rent.
Bills.
Food.
New shoes for the kids—the kind that actually fit.
It wasn’t just money.
It was relief.
The Thought I Didn’t Want to Have
I wish I could say I didn’t think about keeping it.
But I did.
For longer than I want to admit.
Because when life has been hard for long enough, you start looking for any way out.
Even the wrong ones.
Then I saw the ID.
An older man. Late seventies.
Name: Gary.
And behind it, a folded piece of paper with an address.
I stared at it.
And something inside me shifted.
The Drive That Felt Longer Than It Was
I could’ve gone home.
I could’ve pretended I never found it.
No one would’ve known.
But I would’ve.
And that thought followed me all the way to my car.
All the way down the street.
All the way to his house.
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