I thought working in a mine for the summer would be something that I would be able to talk about when I got back to campus in September. I'd be tanned and buff from moving large rocks or wheelbarrows or something. I'd have tall tales from my new-found miner buddies, all of whom would have tall tales to tell about life underground.I thought wrong.Oh, I've met some other miners but they are mostly like me -- students from different universities who wanted to make a fat wad of cash for the school year. The others, the older ones, don't talk much. Except for Cook. She talks too much. She told us all about her time here. We thought she was crazy, but then the first five months passed and we realized she was telling the truth.Now I know I'll be one of the older ones eventually, but I won't be like Cook. I can't imagine I'll want to talk about my endless summer.
This scene looks too ... empty. I offer 165 words for this week's prompt. Click the photo to go add your thoughts.