The Butterfly Effect

He licked his lips tasting the dryness, his throat was parched. It was a hot day and end of shift still far away. Sweat was beginning to flow like tiny rivulets, stinging his eyes. He flicked sweat off his eyebrows. It was bleak and harsh, just like his fate, he thought grimly. He mused upon irony of a God assigning a man to life of misery and drudgery on this world in order to test his character. He had long concluded that such a god could not be benevolent, at best a god with sense of cosmic humour.
His reverie was broken by restless din of workplace . Sighing he lifted the shovel and stood. He was startled by a shadow. He looked up, clouds were spreading blocking the fury of sun. He could smell the rain. Gusts of western wind struck him evaporating sweat and cooling him.
He smiled, must be some butterfly somewhere.