When the metal door of the repair shop was pushed open, a gust of cold air swept in, mixed with tiny snowflakes. Lin Mo was changing the oil on an old Chevrolet when he looked up at the sound and saw Bobby standing in the doorway. He had a faded, washed-out backpack slung over his shoulders, and his scarf covered half his face, leaving only a pair of bright but uneasy eyes exposed.
"Come in. It's cold outside." Lin Mo wiped the grease from his hands and pointed at the folding chair in the corner. "I just boiled some water. Want a drink?"
Bobby hesitated, but still walked in with his head lowered. The backpack straps had pressed his shoulders red. He sat on the edge of the folding chair, barely touching it, both hands gripping the straps so tightly that his knuckles turned white. The garage was warm, and the kettle on the stove was steaming, a stark contrast to the chill clinging to him. Tiny beads of moisture immediately formed on the tip of his nose.
"Thanks for the blanket yesterday..." Bobby's muffled voice came through the scarf, somewhat unclear. "The warehouse suddenly got a lot warmer. Even the rats stopped causing trouble."
"As long as it helped." Lin Mo added a piece of coal to the stove, and the flames crackled twice. "Why weren't you at school today?" He noticed that Bobby's backpack zipper had not been fully closed, revealing a math textbook inside. The Midtown High School emblem was printed on its cover—he actually went to the same school as Peter.
Bobby's shoulders trembled like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. "I took leave," he said quietly, staring at the muddy snow on the tips of his shoes. "Yesterday... something happened in class again."