The clap of the hammer lit up the walls of the parking garage and stung my ears. I glanced at Sara, eyebrows raised. She answered my expression, “Wow, that’s loud. Oh well – go for it. We need this.”
My glance lingered and she nodded. I turned back to the wooden palate sitting on the concrete, grit my teeth, and attacked – coughing splinters everywhere. I felt suspicious. We weren’t doing anything wrong, but it was so loud I figured someone would complain. The neighborhood kids circled the parking garage on their bikes. Patrolling.
A minute later I stopped, ears ringing, and wiped sweat from my forehead. I raised my eyebrows to Sara. She stood at a safe distance – arms crossed. ”Tough little guys.”
“It looks like it.” She laughed. “Let me try.”
“Nope.” I grit my teeth and attacked harder than ever. Mostly because she was watching.
After a dozen more gunshots I gathered up some splintered boards and tossed them into the back of the jeep. Firewood.
