CROWS
“What’s keeping you?” he asked, opening the door midway.
“I’m coming, grandpa,” I replied and, picking up the ax, I stepped outside.
We walked down an uneven path, my grandfather walking ahead of me. There were blossoming apricot trees all around us.
“There’s going to be a good harvest this year,” he said enthusiastically, looking at the trees, “I won’t be around tomorrow. You have to come, look around, water the trees…”
I didn’t make a sound, he kept talking. We continued walking.
“This is it,” he said, pointing to a poplar. We walked up to the tree, “But be careful, don’t hurt yourself…”
My grandfather left. I looked at the poplar. It was not very thick, but it was tall. “I’ll be done in two hours,” I thought to myself, and started to chop at it with the ax.
One hour passed
