Rich black earth. Nothing felt like it, nothing smelled like it, and the arrival of spring only heightened his pleasure at being able to sculpt and tend the grounds of his uncle’s apartment complex and the spot he called home as well, Heart’s Haven. When the vehicle neared the rental unit, Kevin paused from his outdoor preparations for its new occupant. He peeled off a pair of heavy duty work gloves and swiped residual dampness against his jean-clad thighs. Sure enough, the van slowed, brakes squealing a bit and disrupting a nest of hatchlings and their mama who swept briefly through the sky—then angled straight back home to the nest. “Unit Fourteen. This is the spot.” Those words drifted from the open window of the van, issued by the driver who soon hopped from the parked vehicle and rounded to the rear, releasing a hooked latch. Kevin watched while the guy who rode shotgun disembarked as well and hoisted a dolly from inside the truck. The second mover propped his equipment against the back tire and helped extend a worn but sturdy looking steel ramp.
