[crackling footsteps, miner’s headlamp cuts through the darkness]
“Okay. I’ve made the list. There will be six people working in a tunnel just east of this location. That’s your quota total. We agreed that if you have that total we get another rich vein–eighteen months’ double workload for the whole company and a hint of great wealth further east. Remember–it’s got to look natural and likely enough that the geologists don’t question it.
I’ve hand-picked the men. They’re in good health and have no wives or children that I know of. They’ll still be a big loss. No suffering, right?”
[a single, short burst of air, an audible ‘whuff’]
“Thanks.” [retreating footsteps]
*******
“Aunt ‘Tilda? What’s this picture?”
“It’s of a miracle, dear. I had what I thought was a horrible day once. I joined a parade for my school.”
“You were in a parade?”
“I did! I was ten years old, and we were trying to raise money through the school for a new dog shelter. I had to wear a hot, scratchy uniform that didn’t fit, I couldn’t walk with the tuba that I wanted to play, the trombone I COULD play fell apart–”
“What did you do?”
“I went to pick up the slide that had fallen and a dog jumped out of this alley and started tearing up my hat! My mother ran up to me, scaring the dog back, picked up my ruined hat and the slide, and said, ‘The show must go on!'”
“What happened then?”
“She put my hat back on and I marched the rest of the way with the band. I couldn’t put the trombone back together. It was bent. I was crying while we stood at the end of the parade with people taking pictures of me in my ruined hat, with my ruined trombone, and I felt just awful.
Then the next day the local newspaper sold five times as many copies as usual. The money was raised for a new dog shelter, our school got new band uniforms, a leash law was passed, I was given a brand new trombone, and three different people I didn’t even know brought brownies by the house for us to eat. I still had to walk in those awful parades, but my cousin, one of the new dogcatchers, was always there at the end of them with a glass of lemonade or hot chocolate waiting for me.”
“And that’s a miracle?”
“I think so, dear.”
