Fiction | February 11, 2020

One day it wasn’t there. The next day it was. One day we were busy working the whole length of our section of road, south of 63rd Street, north of 63rd Street past Jackson and Maple and. the slow climb up to Hitchcock. To the south, Brown & Lambrecht was doing the same as us, but just over the hill past where our jobs met. We heard them but couldn’t see them. We knew they were there. But the next day we came to work and there it was, on that slight rise between us and them we called a hill—a boulder the size of a house.

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