By eight o’clock that evening, Murphy had finished the work I asked him to do. Night had fallen and with it had come a brisk wind. A storm was brewing, I was sure of it. Aside from when I’d given him lunch, I’d seen Murphy only once or twice when he’d come inside the store to use the bathroom.
“Ready to go?” I asked as I locked the back door to the building.
Murphy nodded once and hopped onto his bike. I got into my truck and led the way home. Once we were both inside the house, I said, “Washer and dryer are next to the bathroom you used this morning. Feel free to do laundry if you want. Why don’t you take a shower? You’ve probably seen the towels above the toilet.”
“Thanks,” was all he said before grabbing his saddlebags and walking in his socks down the hall.
I left him to it and tho
