All in a day

A waft of sea wind rummaged through the PickUp truck, ruffled my nearly dry hair and salted my buttered saliva. As my parents religeously manuvered their fags from finger to finger or (gulp) from hand to hand, I indulged myself in literal fantasy all the while blowing off strands of hair in sight. It is our journey to the construction site. But given a time shift, it would be a ritual ride to school. Oddly enough, such simple repetition served a nostalgic dose of empathy. Empathy that links the journey and me.
I tagged along with my day-time boss, umi as she goes through her ever-changing errands. Naturally appointed as her apprentice, I gave my full attention to how things are done in this trade. This is not my first time observing her job but strangely enough, everything she worked with, the people and surrounding have never been the same. As she would have experience it herself, I understood now how ironic the word she'd accustomed herself with: contractor. A con -tractor.

Like a cat, she is a princip-based charmer, delicately swimming her way through ignorance, arrogance and carelessness under the accursedly hot condition. Having that locked in the furthest corner of my mind, knowing that this trade will by chance be pupperteered by me, I courteously shrugged off bolts and cement and continued diving into my realm of fantasy; my idea of a holiday.

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