Slias carefully held the grandfather clock as he stood in front of his house. The clock was taller than Silas, and a big wind might knock it over. Silas was watching for a truck to arrive and take the clock away, driven by a man named Greg who had inquired about the old clock online.
Instead, a red Mini Cooper pulled up.
“Silas?” a man asked. The man fit the car, a relatively small man wearing a red jacket.
“Yes, are you Greg?”
“Sure am.” Greg eyed the clock and went to open his trunk.
“How are you going to fit the clock in the car?” Silas asked. “Don’t you think you need a truck or something?”
“Do you have one?” Greg asked. Silas shook his head, not wanting to get his own truck involved in this transaction. He had sold the clock for basically nothing.
“This clock is an antique,” Silas said. It was not in fact a family heirloom, but he had an affinity for the clock. He just couldn’t bring it with him on his move to Georgia.
“Listen, this is basically my job,” Greg said. “I’ve gotten mattresses, billiards tables and my drum sets in and out of this car, no problem.”
“Why is this your car then?” Silas said.
Greg said nothing. He walked over, wrapped his arms around the clock and lifted it. He placed it upright in the trunk at an angle and then strapped it in a couple of times. Silas held his breath as Greg waved, got in his car and drove off at speed.
Silas heard the chime of the hour dinging from the clock as Greg flew towards the highway over the speed bump at the end of the block.