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The sun was burning a hole in his back. He felt the fibers of his shirt shriveling away in a singed submission. His skin wore a layer of moisture beneath his clothes, and beads of sweat kept dripping from the tip of his nose onto the excavation site. The weather was the one part of his job that he despised. There was either too much sun, too much wind, too much rain, or too much snow. Today was the sun’s turn to make his job difficult.

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