The Wrench Hand

Gage looks about the garage one more time, ensuring that it looks some what presentable if a new customer should come in to get some work done on anything that they might own. Stepping through a side door he locks the garage behind him and heads up a thin set of stairs leading to the loft where he stays. Using his house key he opens the locked door to the loft and steps into the comfort of the single room single bath house that he calls home. Hopping into the shower he lets the scalding water melt away all the engine oil and road grease that he has spent the last night sleeping in. Washing his browned hair the oil washes away leaving a bright golden blond hair behind. Taking his time he soothes himself into a more relaxed state, finally happy enough with his cleanliness to get out and go get some food into his belly.

Walking through his loft buck naked save for the towel draped over his neck he quickly towels off before picking a bland grey shirt free of oil stains to wear and a pair of blue jeans to wear with it. Slipping into his favorite pair of crocodile brown leather boots he grabs his hat, a hand shaped bull hide leather copper creek hat, a small sheriff star set on the band around the headband. The star is only a decoration but it adds the style to the hat that Gage feels that it needed. Putting on his belt he buckles the large Bronco Breaking trophy, all silvered and shiny, the small man mid buck on the back of a wild horse cowboy hat in hand. It is a simple symbol of the difficulty and the uncontrollable nature of the sport, one that has been the cause of several broken bones in Gages body including two severely sprained wrists.

Gage pulls his cash out of his pocket, leaning back and holding his hat on while he looks at the sign overhead for the price. Setting the bills aside he looks up the road, searching the environment for anything that might catch his attention. Across the street a fruit stands sells fresh bananas and various fruits of a wide range of colors. A little way up the road a thin man walks pushing a refrigerated cart with a small ice-cream jingle playing. Just behind him a pair of small children follow, both crying and slightly disheveled, giving Gage an odd tingle just behind his ears.

"Here are your rolls sir,"Gage snaps away from the kids and turns back to the elderly man,"Anything Else?"

"Nah, not for me," Handing the man what bills he owes Gage grabs the two plastic bags of food before looking over his shoulder at the Ice Cream man again. The two children however have vanished, no nearby alleys or doors that they could have stepped into. 'Maybe they took off and I didn't notice.' Turning and heading back the way he came Gage lets the vendor keep his change. Shrugging off the sensation he walks for about five minuets before he reaches his destination.

The older gentleman with the yellow stain on his shirt. "Mister Yarakuto, I brought you some food." Gage holds up his spare bag of sushi rolls. "You like sushi right? I have some Tex'n Sushi here that will knock your britches past your boots."

The quite man looks up, his deep eye sockets showing less and less personality with each visit. "Thank you Gage, You know I love getting these visits from you." Holding his hands out he gratefully takes the food, bowing his head in gratefulness, the bald spot on his crown more and more prominent.