Jasper Overbay hummed each morning whenever he prepared his peanut-butter sandwich lunch. Happily, he jostled upon the commuter train to ride to that shore teeming with glass towers. He even hummed whenever, each morning, he tossed that coin to the lift man before riding up to his waiting scaffold.
Jasper liked to reminisce about those nights he had spent in the Palace watching Satinka perform her magic dances. As he rode the lift man’s cage into the sky, he liked to remember those afternoons he had spent upon his motorcycle chasing the herd, liked to remember how the rifle had felt when it roared in his hands, liked to remember how his heart had raced whenever he returned to the Palace to offer Satinka a trophy from his hunt. His spirit still floated at the thought of such days, and he remained proud, no matter how many following days he spent vainly fighting against the gathering dust.
As always, Satinka’s shape danced in the glass beneath Jasper’s polisher mop and broom. Jasper hummed as he worked to carefully wash away all the grime he could. He hummed for the honor of helping to insure the dust and soot never blanketed that dancing silhouette all the polishers knew belonged to Satinka.