With some clippers and ladders, the trees in the front yard soon stopped blocking as much of the view of the house, and the burn pile was big enough for a bonfire.
"We'll need to burn that to get it out of here," Steven decided, wiping sweat from his face. "Maybe do some s'mores."
"S'mores," Paul groaned. "I'm ready to die from complete muscle failure, and he's talking about marshmallows." Paul wasn't out of shape, not by a long shot, but this sort of bending and reaching wasn't typically part of his running and free weights routine, and the underused muscles he woke up today were complaining loudly.
"Wow," Steven smiled. "I know you just turned thirty-six and are therefore old, but I had no idea how decrepit you'd gotten."
"I'd smack you for that, but I'm conserving my strength." Paul
