Gemotions

David was in the middle of cleaning his motorcycle, his hands covered in grease. The familiar scent of oil and metal filled the garage, a scent he found comforting. He wiped down a chrome fender, the metal gleaming in the light. The repetitive action of polishing was meditative.

A friend request. It was from Trevor. The bully from his youth, the one who stole his friends. The one who made him feel… small.

David paused, the rag in his hand suspended. He recalled the anger, the feeling of being powerless. He just shook his head and got back to work. The task required his undivided attention. The engine needed to be just right.

He kept wiping, and the metal gleamed. He started whistling a quiet tune.