I drag one of the totes over to him and begin rummaging through it, delicately placing tools at his feet. A hammer, a screwdriver, and a wicked looking pair of gardening shears. Finally, a brand-new nail gun, the smell of the orange plastic still fresh and chemical. I sit cross-legged at his feet, looking up at him and I smile. “I’ll be honest, I’m feeling kind of shy. I’ve never done this before.”
