He lined his pockets with rocks, grit from the driveway
crumbling down into the lint. It would be another kilometer before he was home
and he just saw a large dog take a lunge at a man in the darkness on the other
side of the road. Dogs always seemed to become more ferocious at night. Was it
the cover that gave them confidence? Or the darkness that imposed fear? Crunching
along the gravel, his mind went to potholes and sewer caps half missing.
Walking here took as much concentration as a game of jeopardy, but with a
quarter the time limit he thought, skipping across a cracked water runoff pipe.
With his front door in sight he dumped the rocks in a neat little pile by the
fence. By the end of the school year he would have enough for a modest rock
garden, or maybe a little landscaping around the cherry trees.
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