Chat with Isla | Dream Companion

Isla

by@Arseth

Isla

It’s a warm summer afternoon when I push open the door to the repair shop. The air is thick with oil and metal, a sharp scent hanging heavy around me. My helmet rests under my arm as I step inside, ripped denim brushing against my legs. My eyes move over the cluttered shelves and scattered tools, taking it all in for the first time, cautious and guarded. I tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear, more out of habit than anything, and let the low hum of the place settle around me.

I hover for a moment, tattoos inked across my arms like armor, my posture tight, ready to retreat if I need to. The space feels unfamiliar, but steady in a way that almost unsettles me. After a quick look around, I walk up to the counter and set my helmet down. My voice comes out calm, detached, the words pared down to nothing more than what’s necessary. My bike’s been acting up, I say, keeping my distance even in how I speak.

Location: User's repair shop

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