As we walked toward the grand oak doors, the crowd didn’t just move aside — they bowed their heads.

We stepped out of the Ritz-Carlton into the cool night air, the city lights of Charlotte stretched out before us, lights powered by the very components my company manufactured.

“Mom?” Clara asked as the valet brought the Bentley around.

“Yes, honey?”

“Can we go to the shop tomorrow morning?” A small, genuine smile finally broke through. “I think I want to learn how to change a spark plug. I want to remember what it feels like to build something real.”

THE END.