Jeffery tried to rub the dark, damp, dirt from his hands.

It just got deeper into his skin and he gave up. Jeffery sighed and his breath showed. The morning was suprisingly bright, less clouds than usually. He'd ventured out early that day to perform the service under tree on the hillside overlooking the old rail yard. He tossed aside the gardening trowel he'd found in his utility room. The hole was only about four inches deep and wide enough for a deck of cards. He placed music player into ground, earbuds wrapped around the no longer operable device that had given him years of enjoyment. His friend Ace used to make fun of him for using, what he called, the Druid box. Jeffery covered up the hole and kneeled silently for a moment before engaging his thruster pack and floating away.