“He worked here when he was younger.”
“Does he still live here?”
She thought for a moment.
“I’m not sure… but there’s a mechanic down the street. Name’s Daniel.”
Ethan barely managed to speak.
“Where?”
She pointed.
“That blue garage at the end of the road.”
The shop was simple.
It smelled of oil and metal.
A man stood bent over the engine of a pickup truck, hands stained with grease.
Dark hair.
Strong build.
Ethan stopped at the entrance.
For a moment, he couldn’t move.
There was something about him.
The way he tilted his head.
The shape of his face.
It was impossible to ignore.
“Daniel?” Ethan called.
The man looked up.
Their eyes met.
And time… stopped.
They stared at each other for several long seconds.
Something flickered in the mechanic’s expression.
Confusion.
Recognition.
“Can I help you?” the man asked.
Ethan stepped forward.
“I… I’m looking for someone.”
He slowly handed him the photo.
Daniel wiped his hands and took it.
His face changed instantly.
“That’s… me.”
Ethan’s breath caught.
“Was your name always Daniel?”
The man hesitated.
“Not exactly.”
“What was it before?”
Daniel stared at the photo again.
His eyes grew distant.
“I remember… someone calling me something else when I was little.”
Ethan’s heart pounded.