They've finally stopped. For hours I had to listen to echoes across the pavement, metal fists hammering. Over and over they crack, pound, chip, those bare-backed men tangled inside steel poles. I watch them on the curb, pulling sandwiches from paper bags and remember how everyday at noon I sat on that field behind school searching through my own paper sack. It was the surprise that I looked for, a handwritten note, a piece of gum, butter on the bread, the smell of home. I can't say that I've ever stopped looking for those hidden treasures. Across the street one of the men stands, punches his air-filled bag between his hands. So abrupt that moment when you find what isn't so loud the crush of emptiness.

You've read  of  free articles. Subscribe to continue.
QR Code to Lunch
Read this article in
QR Code to Subscription page
Start your subscription today