Tank stayed beside me in the garage for almost an hour while the rain hammered against the roof overhead.

I found the power cord tangled beneath the workbench and plugged it into the wall. The tiny screen flickered twice before stabilizing.

Then Dad appeared.

He looked thinner than I remembered.

Cancer had hollowed out his cheeks by then, but his eyes were still sharp. Tank lay behind him on an old blanket, lifting his head every few seconds like he was making sure Dad was still there.

Dad cleared his throat.