His face was covered in a thin layer of gray grime.

He sat up and wiped his greasy hands on a red shop towel.

He smiled when he saw the lunchbox.

“I owe you,” Luke said.

“I left it sitting right by the coffee pot.”

Before I could hand it to him, his cell phone started ringing.

The sound echoed sharply off the high tin roof of the garage.

Luke pulled the phone out of his dark blue work shirt.