The Hardware Store

I arrived outside the hardware store at seven thirty. I was later than I had hoped to be, but the rush of men to the car proved that I would not be out of luck. “Just one, just one,” I said, holding up one finger. “Eight dollars an hour.” A well-built but shabbily dressed young man was closest to the car and stayed when most of the other men stepped away, not interested in working for such a low hourly rate. “No, no,” he said. “Twelve dollars.” We soon settled on ten, and he climbed into my truck.

The trip out to the property was almost a thirty minute drive, but we didn't speak much. “What’s your name?” I asked, trying to make polite conversation. “Antony… Tony…” he said, staring out the window. "You married?" I asked, but he just shook his head. I looked him over. Good build, healthy appearance, he seemed like he’d be a good worker. His deep brown skin meant he was a regular, only adding to my confidence. I was sure we’d be done early.