I see a blade of grass growing in a crevice of a cement block. Moisture in the soil is drying up in unusually harsh August sun. Floor is no longer slippery as moss has shrivelled up like a crisp burnt paper crunching under my feet.
I throw a little water from my paper cup on the soil around the blade of grass.
'There you go,' I whisper to it when no one is looking.
It waves on a brisk breeze gratefully.
I give just a little nudge to an earthworm wriggling in an awkward angle with its pink underbelly showing.
It straightens up and crawls under a brick.
'There you go', I whisper to it when no one is looking.
Just when I think of quitting, I see them.
Hell-bent on living.
So I decide to survive another day.
