Bernard came back a few minutes later. He was carrying a heavy pack of cement over one shoulder. He dropped it onto the dusty floor with a loud thud and immediately began grumbling.
He wiped sweat from his red face with a dirty cloth. Milo realized that the old man really liked to complain. He talked to himself even when no one was listening, swearing about everything. Really, everything.
Milo stood up from the stone ledge. He held the small wooden box in both hands. He walked over to Bernard, waiting for the man to stop shouting at a bucket.
"Sir," Milo said quietly. "I found this inside the oven. I think someone left it there. I don't know what it is."
Bernard stopped mid-sentence. He was breathing hard from the walk, his chest heaving under his clothes. He looked at the box, and his eyes went very wide.
He reached out with a shaky, dirty hand and took the box from Milo.
