Moses stood by the side of the highway, his staff in one hand, a construction sign in the other. He twisted it to “Slow” and the cars sped by, one by one past the towering waters of the sea. The traffic in the other direction piled up behind the “Stop” portion of his sign, waiting for their turn.
A pick-up truck slowed as it approached, the headlights reflecting off of Moses’ orange construction vest.
“Hey, Moe!” The driver gave him a wave from the inside of his vehicle.
“Looks like it’s gonna be another late night tonight. The boss is calling for overtime to finish up this section of the tunnel construction.”
The old man groaned.
“Hey, at least it’s more money. Once this project’s finished you’ll be out of a job.”
“Doubt it. Are you out of a job every time you finish a tunnel?”
“S’pose not.” He spat a thick glob of chewing tobacco onto the gravel. “Guess that’s how it is with all contract work. You do your job until they’re done with you, then you got to move on and find someplace else that’s looking for a skilled pair of hands.”
“Ain’t that the truth.”
Moses watched Phil drive away and turned the sign so the other line of traffic could pass through the parted waters. He sighed. It’s a living.