From both sides, out of the night’s dark cold, came eye stabbing lights dazing enough to sharply enforce harsh shouts, guttural commands, and earnest urgings from all directions to look straight ahead and move forward. And terrified, uncramming themselves from fetid boxcars, they moved forward. Only forward.

GRAVITY. NO GRACE.

“Avram! Avram! When you finish? You can’t move this along? Again, I say let me help you. Matuski I could send with trucks. They bring to auction, to New England, to goddam dump! Believe me. This so unnecessary. Move this along. Look forward, not back! Whachu wait for?”