Just minutes before the sun went dipping behind the horizon, he was sliding under the truck, wiping his hands across the chest of his fading coveralls, clinching the screwdriver between his teeth. Pushing the creeper towards the dripping oil pan, he noticed a whole new problem. An unfamiliar hand was grasping his ball pin hammer from the cold pavement. The unknown figure began laughing, knowing they had the advantage. The early morning sun crept through the drab curtains before finally resting upon a good patch of repulsive carpet. Meanwhile, Michael Graham stares at his ceiling, eagerly trying to savor the few precious minutes before his alarm clock screams to life. Michael was a blue-collar man from humble beginnings. He was the kind of guy who didn't mind having dirt under his fingernails or grease sporadically placed on his clothes. However, being the proud owner of a declining automotive shop was all Michael really had left. His marriage to Linda lasted for seventeen years before the premature demise of their son, Dominic. Michael never noticed the alcohol slowly conquering every aspect of his life - eventually compelling Linda to raise the white flag and file for divorce. Michael sat hunched over his bed, swigging from the bottle of whiskey that he hadn't finished from the night before. He continued to reflect on the past year as he sustained his morning routine by gulping the remaining contents of the bottle, on his way to the bathroom. The day had carried on just like any other day in every other small town across the country. However, the small town of Fairmont Colorado was operating on all cylinders. The barista on Main St. had been filling the morning air with the rich smell of cheap coffee beans. The mailman has just begun his route and the nearby elementary school had rung its morning bells. Michael pulled up to his automotive shop doing at least ten mph over the speed limit. His radio blaring alternative rock from the early 90's, while a half smoked cigarette hangs awkwardly from his lips as he sings along with the tune. Michael opened the automotive shop by unlocking the garage door and sliding it to the ceiling. He headed straight for the refrigerator that he kept tucked away in the back of the shop. Michael's schedule was nowhere close to hectic. In fact, he only had: an oil pan to change, a few brake pads to replace, and time to kill. Since Michael had all these thing planned out, knowing that they wouldn't take him to long. He decided he would have a few beers for breakfast then proceed with the rest of his day. Almost having completed the super huge list of arduous tasks. He moved on to his final project of the night, just as the sun dipped behind the horizon. Michael slide under the pickup truck unaware that he had a visitor. He looked at the oil pan once more to make an accurate estimation of the tools he would need for removal. Since he already had the screwdriver clinched between his teeth, he handled those first. When Michael finished up with the screws, he knew he would need a ratchet next. He looked down to spot the ratchet when he noticed his ball pin hammer being picked up from the cold pavement by another. "Ha ha ha ha" the unknown figure chuckled as he picked up the hammer. "Who's there?" said Michael, slightly caught off guard by the mysterious laughter. Not knowing if he could withstand the confrontation that awaited him when he emerged from under the pickup. "What do you want? We're closed?" Michael said in a stern voice. "I want to see..." the unknown figure replied. "You want to see what?" Michael quickly muttered as he started to become annoyed by the situation. "I want to see you die" said the mysterious voice with a real emphasis on the last part. Michael wasn't quite sure if he was hearing everything in the proper context since he had a pint for lunch and a few beers for breakfast. He slowly began to slide the creeper out from under the pickup, slightly holding his breath while he grips the screwdriver a little tighter with his right hand. "Okay pal, it's time to leave" said Michael as he began sliding out from under the pickup. Every millisecond revealed something new about the mysterious figure holding the hammer as more of the him came into view. Michael emerged from under the pickup shocked to see the figure still standing over him. The figure was wearing a loose fitting black jacket with the hood conveniently hiding his face. "Alright asshole it's time to go or I'm calling the police!" said Michael as he looked up at the man still holding his ball pin hammer. The unknown figure began to laugh once more as he raised the hammer over his head. He thrust the hammer downward. The swift motion of the unknown figure altered the hood on the jacket just enough for Michael to catch a glimpse of the man. Just before the hammer struck Michael in the head and killing him he called out "Dominic".