Gemotions

He stared at the blank space where his beat-up pickup truck used to sit. The tow truck, a hulking metal beast, had just finished its job and disappeared down the road. A knot tightened in Leo's stomach. The truck was more than just a means of getting around; it was a ghost of his youth.

The engine's familiar rhythm and the smell of the upholstery, even after all these years, always comforted him. He ran his hand over the driveway, feeling the grit of the asphalt. His fingers traced the faded outline of where the tires had sat. He recalled the countless hours spent wrenching on it with his father, the shared laughter and grease-stained hands. He had plans for it too – to get it restored and drive it cross country.