Variations on a theme tuned to the key of A minor

The morning air was thick and brisk and held with it a kind of weight that one does not normally experience in this particular region. The kind of weight that added emotional ballast to an already seemingly arduous process. He reached for his calloused yellow leather work gloves that were brittle to the touch and had blackened finger tips from excessive wear. They had seen several seasons and would see several more. That was just the way of things around here. Clutching both gloves like a bow tie in his left hand he raised his right mitt exposing deep olive skin, wrinkled in the kind of way that inspired humility, and reached for a pack of lucky strike unfilters concealed in the front left pocket of his black and red weathered flannel. They were secured by an old button that was 78 percent round. The next 15 seconds of unexpected, uninhibited grace was nothing short of ballet. The agility and allure with which he lit his cigarette would make even the most staunch anti smoker's mouth salivate. It was Grace personified in a sickening way that would lend itself to Pepto bismal and Johnny Walker Black. Sort of like watching an executioner who has achieved mastery over his craft and ends human lives with symphonic precision.

The first puff of smoke hung low and danced a foot above his head as he shifted his focus towards the ever fading starts.

He pulled his wool cap down over his ears and started the long walk down the dusty road to the old dilapidated shed that held contained much of what one would expect to find in a shed such as this. Hundreds of different hand tools, thousands of different sized glass jars with a cornucopia of fasteners and windings, saddle and bridle accessories, horse shoes, harnesses, rigging, broken distilling equipment, empty wooden pales were strewn haphazardly in a corner. But upon further inspection one might also find beneath a hand sewn canvas cover, an impeccable maintained pristine Schwinn Exelsior with not so much as a spec of dirt on it. There was nothing in particular running around his head and he marched down the earthen path toward his diamond in the rough. Much like he did the day before and much like he would do the day following. After all, that was the way of things around here...