Ms. Calculation

“Are you sure that you really want to do this?” he asked, sticking in his pitchfork and flipping through a frozen pile of the detritus. He could think of a thousand things he would rather being doing than going through a pile of compost for evidence they weren’t going to find.

She gave him a glance and her face was pinched tight, as though she was as disgusted by this as he was. “Just look.” She scraped at the pile.

He followed her lead, but all he could think of was how close they were and how much he’d rather be anywhere else with her.

He worked his way through the hay as diligently as he could, given the circumstances. After ten minutes, the cold had started to nibble at his fingertips. They were never going to find anything.

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