Don wiped the sweat off his brow with the back of his sleeve, his breath steadying as he stood in the center of the cluttered mill.
The scattered screws, wires, and bolts laying at his feet were the evidence of a task he finally completed. He glanced at his watch, noting the time.
'Five minutes and forty-three seconds.'
It wasn't much in the grand scheme of things, but it was longer than yesterday—and that was enough.
"I'm definitely keeping focus longer," he murmured, his voice low and hoarse.
He straightened up, rolling his shoulders as his gaze drifted across the room. The dim light filtering through the perforated roof cast uneven shadows over the hulking, rusted machinery.
His eyes settled on a battered lathe, a rolling mill cylinder lying on its side, and a mangled conveyor belt assembly.