[One flick of the hand and his gaze is directed to a pile of wooden beams, rubble and bags of cement and sand. He fidgets on the spot and stretches on his heels, his limbs and joints painfully stiff. His nose crinkles as his hands clasp across his stomach.
Manual labour.]
Well, the sooner we start...
[The sooner he can kick back. He hauls a bag of cement onto his knees and up against his chest. He eyes a small wooden plank. No, that's too much.]
no subject
Manual labour.]
Well, the sooner we start...
[The sooner he can kick back. He hauls a bag of cement onto his knees and up against his chest. He eyes a small wooden plank. No, that's too much.]