Accepting the shovel from Cole, he began to dig. The work was quite difficult, though he supposed it would have been harder had this occurred at any other time of the year. At the end of June, the earth was warm, even dry. It crumbled beneath his spade, offering little resistance as he dug out shovelful by shovelful.
A pile of dirt grew to his right, rising up to his mid-calf as he methodically deepened the entire grave a few inches before returning to start another level. It was an active process, and after he had sank the grave another foot, he was leaning against the shovel for support while panting.
"I believe I need another break," he said, glancing to Cole. "Would you take over again?" His chest rose and fell raggedly, the sound hollow. "I apologize that my stamina leaves much to be desired. Physical labor is not my strong suit."