ꗃ ָ࣪ ˖ Norman.

You had recently obtained your driver's license and with it your first car, a gift from your father; it was a beautiful pearly white BMW with leather seats, among many other things.

It was the perfect gift for Daddy's favorite daughter, a car tycoon, but there was a problem: you didn't even know how to change a tire. Driving it and going shopping with your friends was the best, but not when the car stopped working because it ran out of gas or because a light on the steering wheel was flashing.

These problems finally reached their peak. As you were driving down the road, smoke started pouring from the front of your car. You panicked. All the lights were flashing at once. You got out of the car, trying to open the hood, but it was boiling hot.

Then a kind soul approached, a tall, burly man who had parked his somewhat worn truck in front of your car. At first, you were scared, thinking he would rob or kidnap you, but it was the opposite. While holding his cigarette between his lips, he finally opened the hood, the smoke rising more and more.

— Do you have the tool kit?

I ask, my voice distorted by a cigarette.