This is something I wrote from two prompts given for the monthly homework of a writers' group I attended for a couple sessions. One prompt was to write a story of exactly 444 words which was told in first- then third-person perspective; the other was a "story in a bag" built from five items. For that, I was given "high noon", "Halifax", "Samuel Stepshore", "a happy day", and "carpenter". I combined the two to keep things simple, but, as I can never really keep things simple, I went a bit overboard on the particulars. Anyway, here's the result: I tumbled onto the platform like one of the duffels being tossed out of the car behind mine. I kept my eyes on the canvas of my boots and tried to make out some direction from all the bedlam shouting. ----- Samuel Stepshore looked lost. All those hands waving for attention, and he could only stare at his feet. It might've been that he was seasick, except this was closer to the tideline than he had ever been before today. ------- I couldn't see the harbour, but I could smell it, even above all the smoke. A screech would cut through the din of the station every minute or so, but I couldn't tell whether it was just gulls. ----- Halifax was different from what Samuel had expected. He'd been warned, of course, but the biggest excitement he'd seen in Truro was the barn fire last summer. Noise, yes, but there were more men and even horses here. ------- I eventually got myself sorted into a team with some other men. We shook each other's free hands as we collected our bags. We all had craftsmen's calloused palms, but I was the only one without a moustache. ----- You could see clear down to the water from atop the hill. For all its chaos, the scene was silent. Then high noon thundered. The nameless figures below going here and there kept going. Only one looked up to the cannon's hiding place. ----- He thought maybe he saw the wisp from the charge, but it could've been the haze. Samuel kept walking, until he and his group came to the slumped-looking house that was their assignment. The door was already open. ------- I ducked in through the door and pulled off my cap. I did my best to not drip snow on the floor, but there wasn't much room for us to stand in the foyer, and nobody seemed to care. ----- Samuel had only been working as a carpenter for a few months, but his movements blended with those of the other men. They all settled into their work without speaking, only nodding to their host when she brought them tea. ------- The cold of the drafty room couldn't hold against the warmth of our working bodies. I was comforted by the familiar smell of sawdust with every breath. I would need it as I cut and planed through the hours. ----- Samuel contemplated their progress during a brief supper. He wondered how much more there was left to do. Smoke from the harbour drifted through the open door. Somewhere a baby was crying. He hoped tomorrow would be a happy day.