The coin hovered in the air, spinning over and over again. It reached its peak and began to descend. Both boys were pleading with it to land a certain way but the coin had already made up its mind on what it was going to do.
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I recollect that my first exploit in squirrel-shooting was in a grove of tall walnut-trees that shades one side of the valley. I had wandered into it at noontime, when all nature is peculiarly quiet, and was startled by the roar of my own gun, as it broke the Sabbath stillness around and was prolonged and reverberated by the angry echoes.
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It had been a late night. To be more correct, it had been an early morning. It was now 3:00 AM and George was just getting home. He wasn't sure if it had been worth it. He was supposed to have been finished by 10:00 PM, but his boss had implored him to stay and help when it was clear they weren't going to meet the 10:00 PM target time. So, he had stayed an extra 5 hours and lost a good night's sleep for something he didn't really believe in, but he did anyway because he was afraid if he refused he might lose his job.
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