A very short story called "Monday Afternoon in the Shed"

Monday Afternoon in the Shed

The boy was walking home from school. He was happy because – due to his parents going away to Thailand for their Wedding Anniversary – he was going to stay at his grandparents' house this week.

He was on Norton Street, approaching the single-storey, red-brick house of his grandparents. He was thinking about all the cakes his grandma would bake for him and how much TV he would be allowed to watch this week. He was excited.

…

He entered their house with the creak of the screen door. His grandma spoke loudly from another room: "Is that you, Tom?” He could tell she was in the kitchen, probably baking a cake. There was a delicious smell in the air so it seemed likely. He ran through the living room and into the kitchen and there she was, wearing an apron, bent down in front of the oven. Her plump, bulbous bottom was sticking out as she inspected what did in fact appear to be a cake. All of a sudden, she stood up and turned around.

"Tom, it is you! It’s so great to see you!"  

"Hi grandma." She went up to him and kissed him. He rubbed his cheek.

"Hahaha, still averse to kissing I see."

He felt his face flush. He paused, embarrassed. Then he said "Can I help you with the baking grandma?"

"No, it's alright... But I think your grandpa needs some help out in the shed. Go in there and ask. I’m sure he’ll be grateful"

The boy walked through the kitchen, through the laundry and out the back door. There he could see the familiar ramshackle wooden shed of his pop. He walked towards it. He pushed on one of its big doors; it creaked as it swung open.

Inside, pop was bent over, vigorously shaving off wood with a plane; it squeaked and whistled and moaned. The shed had a distinctive smell. It was the mingling aromas of tobacco and linseed oil and something else – the boy couldn't quite put a finger on that other smell.

"Hello pop," he said.

Pop turned around, sweat dripping off his white moustache. "Oh you're here Tom. Good to see you mate." He walked over and shook the boy's hand. His hands were rough and calloused, his grip was hard.

"Your handshake is so strong, pop. It's so hard.”

"I'll show you what else is hard."