By the time I clocked in there were usually fifteen, maybe twenty of them in the vacant lot across the street. More would show up as the day wore on. This was the first week. The younger kids shoveled, scooping dirt up with a workmanlike determination I’d never seen in children before. Occasionally, one would stop, lean on his handle, wipe sweat from his brow. The older kids paced the lip of the hole, surveying its progress, instructing the younger ones.
From Hypertrophic Press Summer 2016. Available for purchase here.