The Life by the Tracks

The deep squeaky sound of the bullhorn carried from around the corner. When it got to me it still surprised my heart enough to skip a beat. I don't think that's healthy for my aging worried pacer. Just as sudden as it came the sound had continued its journey with its parent.

Eight minutes on the nose another rattler came along. I've looked out the window and saw a tired man in grease and sweat returning my look. Without moving he started to move away. In eight more minutes I'll have a new set of eyes to meet.