Train Driver

They crossed over the bridge and up the newly constructed walkway west. Over the part where during fall you look down and watch the salmon gather. He held her hand. She adjusted her gait and a bra strap to the incline.

“There are cracks in this new construction, he said.
“Cracks dear?” she said.
“The cracks in the walk, in the concrete,” he said.
“The sidewalk dear?” she said
“Isolated, yet significant incidents of failure,” he said.
“Incidence?” she said.
“Localized fissures, insufficient compaction,” he said.
“The foliage dear,” she said.
“There are things to consider,” he said.
“Mount Rainier,” she said.
“Aggregate, the re-bar, moisture content,” he said.
“This bench dear, lets rest,” she said.
“You have to be rid of organic matter or no compaction,“ he said.
“I am familiar with the concept,” she said.
“To affect the proper layering, small moist lifts,” he said.
“I remember moist, the effect,” she said.
“Monolithic slab, small-scale, long-term,” he said.
“Long-term?” she said.
“Gravity will do the work for you,” he said.
“Gravity?” she said.

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