A trio of black hard plastic bins with interlocking teeth had been stacked inside the room to a corner earlier. In white glitter marker they'd been labeled "A.J.'s" things. Small silver masterlocks held the bins tight and secure even though they themselves jingled very lightly with every moderately heavy footstep. Very keen ears heard that they almost ring like wind chimes, at different notes in a sort of near cacophanous dissonance.

After a few more hours of sitting quietly in a corner the trio of plastic bins became a happy foursome. What's more, they were accompanied by two gentlemen. One of them, tall, with black slicked hair, carrying the last member of the quartet of crates. The other was much smaller in stature, with brown curtained hair, wearing a shirt with a diagonal "T" printed in the lower corner.

"Daddy, you have to put the last one on top," A.J. nearly shouted excitedly.

"Hey now! Who taught you the rules around here, Kiddo," replied the tall man.

"You did, daddy," A.J. said. He playfully pushed his father on his belt with both hands. His dad braced himself with the opposite leg as he began to shift from the force as though he was fending off an incoming tackle. He wasn't sure if A.J. could see the worried look on his face as he laughed with his son aloud. With a thud, he shifted the last of the bins into place on top. It nested with the others with a dull and muted noise and made all four of the locks jingle like awkward wind chimes.