Scott turned the corner and saw too many cars parked in front of his parents’ home near the middle of the block. He’d tried to drive Joy’s SUV, but she said she didn’t mind his messy truck. She hadn’t used the word messy—that all came from Scott’s mind. He knew he wasn’t clean, especially in his work truck.
messyHe tossed empty water and soda bottles over the seat back to drop onto the floor until he decided to clean them all out. He ate lunch in the truck as he drove from job site to job site. He sometimes got wet and muddy and shed his clothes in the backseat, put on fresh ones—which he kept behind the seat—and moved on with his day.
“Seems like we’re late,” Joy said.
“Nah,” Scott said. “Dinner won’t be ready until four, and it’s barely two.” A quick check of the clock above the radio
