Senor Saint by John A. A. Logan
A job on a rainy day at a remote location. Hundreds of shards of glass have mysteriously appeared on the ground, where sheep could step on them. Some of the shards are two feet long, like glass daggers. The small workgloves I have won’t do for this. I could use the old welding glove, but there’s only one and it will only fit on my left hand, which is awkward. I go to find it. It works OK. I can get the shards of glass out of the earth, and into a plastic bucket, then carry the loads of glass to the storehouse. I keep telling myself, as the rain runs down my neck, to slow down, be patient, be careful not to stumble on the rough ground, it’s not worth getting cut out here, with nobody within a mile and no water to wash with except the rain. I take the last bucketful into the high-ceilinged storehouse. As I walk away, I see some roll of paper on the stone floor, among all the rubbish. I keep walking. The paper is covered in sheepshit and birdshit, like everything else on th...