The clouds spread out across the sky, keeping the humidity tucked in.
“Ain’t right to sweat this much in the dark,” one man said, sipping from a mason jar. The other grunted. The first wiped his brow and kicked his shovel into the clay. They worked for another couple hours, until they were waist deep.
“Guess that’s it,” said the first. The second lifted the jar and drank. They passed it back and forth, grimacing against the sweet burn of the liquor and the gruesome truth of their labour.
Overhead, branches rustled and the moon showed through the shifting clouds.