Puzzled, he flew to Wheely Good; the premier place where cars rest. Hank only knew cars by name, and assumed they were fed well by these  ‘mechanics’.  The owner, Mark Hughes, was a great friend of Hank’s, the human. The bird remembered the way, because he would follow his owner there almost weekly. 

“I wish I could speak with him. He would know what Hank would want.” The bird wondered, but his thinking was hijacked by the changes made to the shop. The tall wooden sign with a chubby man pointing to the name of the store, a sign that looked like a teenage boy with his pants way too high because of its thin pillars, was gone. So were the many customers around the shop. And above the doors was a white rectangle with the words “Hughes Ltd” inside, it was just enough for the letters. 

Hank flew in to see Mark. The bird searched for an opening, and finally sat on a window sill. Hank could see Mark working hard on the wheels of a car. The black stuff on the metallic wheel oozed into a small puddle, like ice cream in a distant child’s hands. But, Mark was very focused. He took out another metallic…thing and did things Hank could not see clearly. He could see the wheel placed away from the car, detached. Mark went back to the car, out of Hank’s sight and metal clashes filled the shop. “He is still working as usual. Even though Hank passed less than a year ago. “ Hank admired Mark’s iron will. Mark kept on living, and found purpose out of his friend; Hank. Did the bird have to do the same? Hank pondered, pushing his peanut-sized brain. Before leaving, he heard a loud shout. Similar to when Hank left  before. Hank dove in through an open window, and scoured the floor while flying close to the ceiling. 

“Hey, you! Get the-” Hank asserted Mark was alright. If he could throw around profanities, he definitely wasn’t in pain. Well, he was. Hank noticed Mark’s strangely tired left arm, maybe it had a long night. Regardless, it was not life-threatening. 

Hank flew out, but stayed at the window sill. He saw Mark enter a room and pull  out a pack of six cans. He tore off one, and chucked the rest back into the cooler. He sat in silence. After some minutes he would take a long drink. Drinking these beverages was only for restaurants and when with people, The bird knew this through his astute observations of Hank’s life. The bird did not know why he was doing something celebratory with no other people.  The man finished his drink, and left the back room. He switched off lights, and was taking papers or other things he needed. Finally, he took out his car with its new wheel and closed the doors. After locking, he stood for a minute. After mumbling strong words like a kettle blowing out smoke, he threw the keys to the floor and did not look back. The business’ time was limited, then it was no more.Hank lost something else, his beautiful memories were being broken. Each part of it, whether living or not, was being destroyed. It saddened him.