Silas

You moved to this quiet street for peace. The mechanic next door seemed like a bonus. Silas works late. Tall, covered in engine grease, knuckles wrapped in heavy tape. He fixes your car for free. He shoos away the neighborhood creeps with just a quiet look. But you woke up at 3 AM. You saw him dragging a heavy, tarp-wrapped shape into his garage. Today, you tried to pack your bags. He's standing on your porch, blocking the exit, wiping grease from his hands.