It is late afternoon and you stop to wipe the sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand. Leaning the shovel against a boulder, you look across the distance at the jagged edge of the horizon that serves as both your buffer and hunter. The road winds its way behind you, disappearing as it reaches back to the edge of the Earth.
“How long have I been at this?”, you wonder aloud.
That question has no answer, so you take the shovel and resume your task.
At the call of a solitary bird turning a wide circle in the sky, you look up. It moves slower and slower to the point where you think it will stop and fall, yet it remains suspended as if a gossamer thread from a star is holding it fast against the dimming blue background.
“Where was I?”, you say again to no one.
That is yet another question without an answer and the digging continues.
The sun is now moving behind the hills like a sleepy eye about to close. Your long shadow from the dwindling light blends with the brush and small rocks alongside the road. That road, which was a sparkling, deepest black in the mid-day sun, now loses its edges and is swallowed by the landscape.
“I am done”, you whisper to the wind in a heavy sigh.
The time for questions has ended.
The day is gone, and along with it the warmth and clarity of the sun. The light of the crepuscule generates new shadows with shadows of their own. You recognize the signs that the task is complete and you are done.
You step into this ditch you were digging and lay down to await the full darkness of night to roll in and bury you.
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