“Halfway there,” Tom muttered through his gritted teeth. “Halfway.”
This did not make him feel much better. His laborious day stretched infront of him, like a mountain cliff, rising straight into the sky and demanding that he find the strength within himself to climb it.
He leaned back slightly, shivering as his back made contacts with the tomb like wall of the building behind him. He was cold down to the bone, the wind stabbing through his patched coat like a driven nail.
He longed for a cigarette, if nothing else to keep his chest warm from the smoke.
Tom straightened back up with a hiss as he was appracohed by a patron.