And that was 4,380 days ago.” His eyes widen and he looks down at his hands. I can almost see his mind reeling be - hind his eyes. I cock my head to him, watching for suits as I wait for him to say some - thing. His eyes seem to grow even larger when he finally looks up at me. “You’re only twenty-two,” He whispers so quietly that I almost miss what he said. “You’re still a kid.” I fluster at the idea. A kid? I’m far from a child. Indignation fills me and I frown, “Well- How old are you?” He looks sad when he looks at me, “24,820 days. Sixty-eight years.” It takes me by surprise. It’s more days than I had expected. We remain silent as suits pass by, the dirt skidding across our fingers. When they are gone, I return with my answer. “That’s a lot of days,” I whisper. I know that I’m going to die here. I might spend 24,820 days digging until I am shot or the sun kills me. But this time, it scares me. And I think he sees it too. “No…. Not when you’ve done things,” Classic says with a sad smile. “Twenty-two years is forever when you’ve only done one thing.” “I’ve done things-” I reply cockily. “- I make songs and I dig notes. I’ve done things.” Classic doesn’t say anything after that. Neither do I, so I keep working. I don’t remem - ber doing anything but digging. Classic doesn’t say anything else to me that day, so I turn my attention to my other neighbor, Ballad. “How many days are you?” I ask her. Ballad lifts her head to me, blonde hair sticking to her face from sweat. She brushes her hair from her face, gold chains clanking far too loud. “I’m twenty-one,” She answers. She’s about a year younger than me. “Why?” It’s an unspoken question, but we both know exactly what the implication is. “Debt—” she responds curtly. “Debt that I couldn’t repay. So, I’m here, paying it off the only way I can.”
34
Made with FlippingBook Ebook Creator