The blue truck’s engine revved once.

The heavy mechanical roar bounced off the neighboring houses.

Michael walked back to his sedan and got behind the wheel.

The truck stayed parked in the driveway as Michael backed out into the street.

At seven o’clock Michael was sitting in the little office at Derek’s auto repair shop.

The cramped room smelled of motor oil and stale coffee.

Michael opened his red ledger notebook on the scratched metal desk.

He turned past three pages of carefully logged visitation dates.