Bus writing.

With the second morning delivery the K7 Hyer Gaskets had arrived. Finally. Of course the piping and system-lock orders had arrived some 2, 2-and-a-quarter days ago. Flexing the schedule, bending the reqs and allocating the time to other, thirsty projects had been a task, and a hard one at that. The progress of this particular job, this specific effort, was the only thing that was suffering.

Well, that and my back, thought Brims.

The throbbing felt from the well placed shiner─ compliments of Hark Felton’s left hook─ from the night before… was not included in his thought of ailments.

Attention turned, a glimmer that appeared to leap, or spark, shone off one of those classic, handled metal lunch pails─ the type seen carried by the men who had constructed America’s original roster of skyscrapers. Or bridge suspenders. It was a replica, still new, still sharp in its condition; the prize of a single bidder eBay auction… turned birthday present.

“Ya gotta take your lunch in something,” she’d said with her stupid smile.

Wiping the smile clean was as easy as: that’s what paper sacks are for Darlene. Ya idiot… How much was this thing?