Author: Sam Roos

Bill’s breathing was heavy, labored. Sweat poured down his brow, hair sticking to his forehead. His goggles fogged, and he realized he had to stop a moment. He pressed the switch and his chainsaw obediently died, the blade stopping on a dime, the persistent rumbling of the gas engine cutting off suddenly, Bill’s breathing now the only audible sound in the forest. He placed his tool down in a pile of fresh wood chips, standing into a stretch, hands on his hips as he raked his back into an arch, trying to push its dull barking pain out of his…