I take a deep breath and begin to cough. It’s become a regular thing, to lose my breath and have my lungs bang around black in my chest. Usually worst this time of day, when the sun’s high and doing its best to cook water from the dirt. The fit stops and I spit, getting it out. The crud’s mixed with blood, seeping down into the cracked earth. I’m thirsty like dust, but there’s nothing to drink. Decide to have a smoke instead. The smoke burns its way down and back up again. Better get a move on. Got a way to go before I get to the grain bins.
We lost Bobby Ahrent yesterday, right here at the Taylors' place in bin five. Bobby was a good man and a good worker for the most part. We liked to shoot the bull, act like we were fighting, but us and everyone else knew we were playing. Had a regular routine, where I’d call him a young ‘un and he’d ask me if I forgot my walker at home. Bobby was always making cracks about me retiring and coming back to work over and over. I told him old farmhands… Read more »