Garrett turned toward the crane to give him an answer.

I took two steps back behind the rear track of the five-ton rig.

I tipped the lid down and poured the black coffee onto the cold asphalt behind the heavy rubber tire.

Garrett turned back to me and took the empty lid from my fingers.

“Good,” he said, wiping the rim with his thumb.

“You look tired, Dad.

Let me carry the weight for a while.”

“I have to be at the bank by eleven,” I said.