Creative Non-Fiction Short Stories. :) Travel, Oldsters, Love, and Compassion.
The shaggy-haired boy has stopped his bicycle to watch a man on a machine unearthing blocks of cement. The boy plays with the strings from the hood of his sweatshirt. He fidgets, but keeps his eyes fixed upon his hero.
The man in the machine is a cowboy, a bull rider on a dozer, wrangling up what was once a Billa supermarket. On a pile of dirt the machine wavers, rocks, tilts eerily forward. The boy tilts too. Then the machine rolls back. Finally, something cracks and up comes a scoop of dirt, cement, building elements. The machine shakes, but the cowboy sits still, hard at work, smoking all the while.
The boy wants to stay, but an obligation puts his feet on his pedals before the work is done. He doesn’t tip his hat, but he does head off into the sunset.