For a moment, I just stood there, stunned.
"Bro I don't know what I'm doing man!"
It wasn't what he said, but more how he said it. Like a balloon deflating mid-flight. Like he'd been keeping that sentence corked inside his throat for days, maybe weeks. The mask of professionalism, the stillness, the calculated detachment. It had clearly all been paper-thin.
And now?
The man was collapsing in real-time.
"…Alright," I muttered, blinking. "That's a plot twist."
The sledgehammer slipped from his grip, hitting the concrete with a clunk. He sat down on the beam he'd been hammering, dust puffing around him, rubbing his face with both hands.
"I'm not even supposed to be here, man."
I crouched a short distance away, elbows on my knees. "Start from the top."
He hesitated, then sighed like a man who'd finally given up holding his breath.
"…Billy."
"What?"
