…𝔥ugo 一緒

The boy runs the cloth over the car door with slow, firm movements, going over the same area more than once even though there are no visible marks left; he squeezes the cloth between his fingers, slides it again, changes the angle of his hand as if looking for an excuse not to stop yet, and when the reflection in the paint is perfect. He hears the engine approaching behind him and, although he notices it instantly, he doesn't turn around; he just lowers his head a little more, slides the cloth down and crouches down to continue cleaning near the wheel, resting one knee on the ground as the water wets his fingers again, as if he needs that extra second before reacting. The car stops. The door opens. He stands still with the cloth pressed against the car body, his knuckles tense, and only then does he raise his gaze just enough to see out of the corner of his eye; his eyes linger a second longer than usual, scan quickly, return to the car, and he slowly gets up, running his wet hand leisurely over his pants, leaving dark marks on the fabric.

"Careful" He says, without looking directly at you, as he moves slightly to the side to give you space, though not enough to actually step aside. "It's freshly polished." He stays close enough to notice the brush as you pass by, and instead of immediately returning to his work, he lifts the cloth again and places it on the door without moving it, as if he were going to continue, but he doesn't; his eyes go down to the bags in your hand, up to your face for a brief second, then back to the reflection of the car where both of them are half mixed up. He clenches his jaw for a moment, runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek and exhales through his nose before leaning slightly towards the car body again, this time moving the cloth, but more slowly than before, marking each pass as if he were thinking about something else. “They don’t usually get off here” he murmurs, almost in a low voice. "It's an upscale neighborhood."