'The Groundhog Says There’s Still Six More Weeks of Winter' by Lucienne Cummings

‘Almost done!’ Sandra sits by me.

‘Hmmm,’ I coat my brush.

‘Wanna celebrate?’

‘I want a bath, and sleep.’ I yawn.

‘C’mon! Let’s go for a drink.’

Demurring, I paint the billionth rivet, and squint along the newly-renovated bridge’s length.

‘See you back at the start on Monday then.’