“Right here,” a booming voice sounds.  A man in a white T-shirt, with sweat stains in all the right places, emerges from the side of the house.  He’s carrying an old sink, with one end beveled down like they use in beauty salons.  “Bud, put this in the house.”

Next to him is a tall, stocky boy with a blond crewcut.  “Yes, Daddy,” he says, grabbing the sink.

“Put it by the front door.”