The strange feeling started before I even opened my eyes in the morning. It wasn’t fear or panic. It was simply the quiet sense that something wasn’t quite right.
I laid still for a few moments, listening to apartment around me while the early morning silence settled over Lawson Customs. The old fridge hummed softly from the tiny kitchen, rainwater dropped somewhere outside after the storm that had rolled through overnight and the familiar creaking of the building reminded me that Uncle Will had always insisted old placed had personalities. This one certainly did.
I climbed out of bed and got ready before making a coffee and I headed downstairs and unlocked the garage.
The familiar smell of engine oil and fresh rubber greeted me immediately.
The workshop lights flickered on one by
