By six o'clock, I've rebuilt exactly one-half of one carburettor. Normally I'd have finished three full ones.
The first part of the repair takes twice as long because I fit a gasket back to front. The second because I spend five minutes looking for a spanner that's been in my back pocket the entire time. And the third… well. The third is still sitting on my bench, half-finished, because I catch myself staring into space instead of working.
I let out a slow breath and rub at my eyes with the heel of my hand.
"Everything alright?"
I look up.
Diesel is leaning against the next workbench, wiping grease from his hands with a rag.
"Fine."
He raises an eyebrow. "Right."
"I am."
"Mmm."
He doesn't look convinced, and neither am I. The truth is, I'm exhausted, and not the sort of tired tha
