The Job Sight

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By J.J. Vaughan

The construction site was booming
Roofers were swearing over blaring stereos,
3 PM summer sun was beating down.

Pushing a wheel barrel all day,
A bead of sweat dropped from under my hard-hat
And over my safety glasses,
Almost impairing my vision of a jogger:

Tight shorts.
Low-cut tank top.
Curvy swagger.
Epic cleavage.

Shit. I’m one of those “creepy” construction guys.
Don’t stare, I think.

But just then she looked up at a shirtless roofer:

Tanned.
Six-pack.
Totally staring.

I should become a roofer.

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