The flame from the match illuminated his thin face and cast dancing shadows across his brow. The deep crags of his cheekbones created swoops and hollows that I saw even in the dim light of the barn with the quick flash of the match. He cast a thin and meager shadow in that instant of light. The boots stacked in the corner, gear left behind at the end of a hard day’s work done by strong men, didn’t belong to him but to the men he employed.