The barrel, large and blue, stood beside the wall of a shed. Open at the top, it was filled to the brim with rain water from the three weeks of storms they had been having. The water looked a bit scummy, leaves having fallen in only to sink to the bottom.
Sitting beside the barrel sat a small mirror, barely a foot tall, and half as wide. It was framed in a dark wood, an expensive cherry wood that, sadly, looked cheap.
The portable phone, sitting on the other side of the barrel, had been brought out while Myles gardened, the end of the rain allowing the first decent day to do so. The phone rang, and he came running around the corner. Taking it too tightly, Myles tripped over the mirror and fell against the barrel, knocking it over. The water spilled everywhere, all over him and the phone, causing it to short and leaving him drenched, and the lawn flooded. Inside, the answering machine picked up the call; the telemarketer hung up.