Rest stop

The man’s wiry beard baked in the sun as he lay in the field. A single ladybird pulled herself up the threads of his corduroy waistcoat. His fingers slightly, playing a silent tune on a piano made of grass and dirt.

After a long while, he lifted his head. His rounded belly shifted as he rolled to his side. Brushing off dirty trousers, he pushed himself up. Joints creaked and protested. Calloused, blackened toes peeked through sad holes in his shoes.

He lifted his knapsack, listening for the distinctive rattle coming from inside the bag. Satisfied that the child’s toy was still contained within the ragged knapsack, he heaved it over his shoulder and continued on his endless trek.