Popular Mechanics - a 100 Word Story
The wrench flies from the engine, close enough that I taste flecks of rust. Grandfather yells, a balding series of spheres in the front seat. I already know I'm worthless, thanks. I wipe the grease onto my ruined shirt, he dabs a pressed handkerchief at his forehead.
The wrench and my hand slide back in. It - he won't identify it - must be held just so. The key cranks, washing the smell of exhaust and gasoline over me.
The car roars to life. He lumbers inside, shouting how he fixed the car.
The wrench smashes a beautiful music through the windshield.
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