Chasing Pavements (D1 Plot; Vic)

The midday sun burned down on the shoulders of the men who worked outside of the District 1 mine. It was hot, hotter than Cyrus could remember it ever being. He even felt a particular sting on his shoulders, something he rarely ever felt, from the rays of the sun. He was sure that his skin would be burnt before the day was out, and hoped that he could finish his shift and retreat to the shade before it was too late. Cyrus had spent the past six hours fusing metal rods together to be used as coiling on the insides of the damaged mine. They had started work just a little after sunrise and continued on until now. The sun had become too much of a nuisance to ignore. Welding was hot enough without the glare of the sun; they could accomplish nothing in the extreme heat without each of them passing out left and right. At last, a foreman gave the signal for them to retreat and to take the rest of the day for themselves. They would return early the next morning to continue work on the mine.

Cyrus had unhitched his overalls and let them hang down at the waist, exposing his stomach and chest to the slight breeze. Sweat dripped down his front as he ambled over to get some water and to gather his things. They had set about the project some time ago, yet there was a constant stop-start of work due to internal disagreements. Cyrus never questioned the work that they were doing, all he knew was that he was getting a steady stipend and time spent in another district. The only down side that he could reckon was that at night he was crammed with a bunch of foul smelling men in a room that was much too small for them. He tried his best to keep his belongings clean and to make sure he was presentable, but the limited rations they received often made life difficult. Much like today, the heat made showering now a poor choice, as he’d just get dirty again later.

He also avoided the conversations of the men at the site. Most of them were older and seemed to have taken this job as a chance to escape the drudgery of their own lives back home. The men from other districts were not his cup of tea, and he tried his hardest to keep his head down and as silent as possible. He was practically invisible to the goings-on of the site. The one thing that he did enjoy at the site was the music they would sometimes play at night. It was the only thing that reminded him of home. He would sit and listen to a fiddle, and think of his friends at a school dance, or his mother humming a tune. He tried not to forget any of it. Sometimes being so far from home, Cyrus thought he might lose a bit of himself.

District 1 had its charms, but the change was a bit staggering for Cyrus. Never had he been in a place where (despite the destruction) there were so many opportunities. As he made his way into town, he continued to gawk at the items offered by the shops. He often forgot about the difference in manners here in District 1 and his home. While he had been raised to be polite, quiet, and seen-but-not-heard, he still seemed to always be disobeying social norms of district 1. At the present, he continued to walk down the street with his overalls off of his shoulders, half-naked in the streets. Cyrus was not very perceptive of people in general, so he very noticed he was breaking some sort of rule until it was too late. As he walked by a few people from the District, he kept his face forward, eyes down, and made sure that he wasn’t looking at them. Instead, he traced his steps back to a restaurant he’d remember seeing on one of his previous walks.

Though the buildings around it had been somewhat damaged by the quake, and a window pane had been broken, the inside of the place seemed particularly unharmed. Cyrus made his way to the lunch counter and ordered himself a sandwich, not noticing the scowl that he was receiving. He had enough money socked away that this lunch wouldn’t put too much of a dent in his funds, and he took the bag in his hands before turning and heading outside of the restaurant. He was used to not eating inside any sort of establishment, but rather, on the curb of the street. Cyrus knew enough that outside Districts were not really supposed to mix with one another, or so he supposed.