Gemotions

He pulled up to "Joe's Garage," the familiar rumble of his own engine a part of the soundtrack of his life. Joe, always covered in grease, would come out with a smile and a friendly greeting. He always felt comfortable with Joe, and he trusted him implicitly. He knew his car was in good hands.

Joe emerged from the garage, but his usual grin was absent. He looked weary. "Got some bad news, pal," Joe said, wiping his hands on a rag. "The shop's shutting down. Couldn't keep up with the rent."

He felt a distinct hollowness. His legs felt weak, and he leaned against his car for support. The familiar sight of the garage, once reassuring, now filled him with a sense of dread. The metallic smell of oil, usually comforting, now seemed to carry a taste of abandonment.