Old machinery.
Commercial refrigerators.
Stainless-steel processing equipment.
Antique signs.
Wooden dairy crates.
Vintage advertising pieces.
Why waste money on an enormous piece of corroded metal?
The auctioneer looked across the crowd.
"Forty-five, going once!"
The boy held his breath.
"Going twice!"
Then the gavel came down.
"SOLD!"
The sound echoed against the old brick building.
"Forty-five dollars to the young man in the brown jacket!"
A few people applauded sarcastically.
Someone whistled.
Another shouted, "Hope you've got a big enough bicycle to haul it home!"
The laughter returned.
But the boy barely heard it.
He stood motionless.
His mouth slightly open.
His blue eyes filling with tears.
He had done it.
For forty-five dollars, he had purchased the last surviving piece of the dairy factory his grandfather had spent a lifetime talking about.
The auctioneer pointed toward him.
"Congratulations, kid. You've officially bought yourself the world's biggest coffee can."
More laughter.
The boy looked toward the container.
Then stepped closer.
He placed one small hand against its rusted surface.
The metal felt cold.
Rough.
Almost painfully real.
He closed his eyes.
For one brief moment, he imagined his grandfather standing beside him.
Good boy.
He could almost hear the words.
Then the auctioneer called from the podium.
"Well, go on!"
The boy turned.
The older man was grinning.
"Open it!"
The boy hesitated.
The auctioneer spread his hands.
"Come on, kid! Maybe your grandpa hid the whole farm inside!"
The crowd exploded with laughter.
The boy looked toward the top of the enormous can.
Then toward the small metal tin in his hand.
His fingers trembled.
He remembered another conversation.
One that had confused him when he was nine.
His grandfather had been sitting beside the barn, holding an old brass button in his palm.
The boy asked why the red-striped cream can mattered so much.
The old man answered.
"Because some things are worth more than the men who stole them."
At the time, the boy did not understand.
Now he wondered.
He slowly walked around the enormous container.
The auctioneer continued joking with the crowd.
The boy ignored him.
He studied the handles.
The corroded rim.
The faded red stripe.
Then he noticed something.