He was hovering by the SPCA van as I struggled to loosen a sheet of tin metal from a junkyard pile. I wanted it for the roof of our chook pen and I didn’t care much if taking it meant stealing. All that scrap metal just sitting beside the car park, surely it couldn’t belong to anyone or they’d see me looking and come running up to tell me how much to pay.
I finally got it free and lugged the metal sheet back to the van. Deb opened the back and we tried fitting it in at different angles. “Nah, too long” (me) “And if we put it over the top of the cage it’ll slice our heads off while we’re driving” (Deb). Well, we tried.
He was still there, that man. Watching us. He came closer, took a long drag on his cigarette and said, “bend it.”
“Bend it?” we asked. It was a thick sheet of metal, heavy to lift.
“Like this,” he said. He placed the sheet flat on the ground and gestured for Deb and me to stand in the middle while he pushed one side up. Soon enough we had an L shape that could fit easily in the van.
“Anything is possible,” said the man. A sheet metal prophet.