“Wonder when the train’s coming by?” he asked the mule, chuckling at himself for talking to a dumb animal.

He thought of the Sunday school story about the ‘ass’ who spoke to its master while trying to protect the man from a vengeful Angel. He wished an Angel would arrive or that the mule would talk.

It had been days, endless cycles of dark and light. He had no idea what time it was.

“Used to be able to tell the time, that train was so regular,” he said.

The mule wasn’t listening and would never again. It was dead.

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