My phone buzzes on the metal table across the shop, but I'm holding a steel rod with molten glass on the end, so I can't answer. It buzzes persistently, distracting me from my work. I roll the rod, and the glass gloops off to the side. "Mother fucker!" I yell, tossing it into the bucket of cold water. I can't concentrate today. The phone keeps buzzing.

"What?" I yell into the phone, seeing that it's my brother Tim calling.

"Whoa, there, man."

"Tim. ...