He twists the ring on his finger.

“Havp, break is nearly done.”

He settles his pickaxe against his knee, in view of the foreman, and utters the expected response. “My axe calls.” The words are coarse with fatigue, but the nod of acknowledgment marks his last few minutes of rest and he sighs.

His eyes float to the band on his finger and he twists.

His crew teases him about it, and they have every reason to.

It’s just a thin circle of silver. Common. There’s no inscription, no decoration, and no useful function like his excavator’s ring. It’s also a liability. It could cost him a finger if it ever pinched in a machine. They’d all told him to throw it away. And why not? He doesn’t even know why he has it.

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But…

There’s something that stirs in his soul when he touches the band, and… he can’t help but feel that he’s lost something.

Or maybe he is lost.

He draws his fingers along the smooth surface. It’s worn, from years of…

Of what? Twisting? He doesn’t know.

A sheer whistle cues the end of break and he rolls to his feet, catching the pickaxe in his fingers.

He won’t throw away the ring. Not just yet. Maybe in a couple of weeks, or a couple of months, when they’re done with this site.

Yes. He’ll do it then.

Decided, he looks at the silver one last time, watching the sunlight glint off the band.

The adrenaline spikes in his veins and he squeezes the handle of the axe. The flow of shuffling workers swallows him up and he follows the stream down the hill, buoyed by the chatter of voices. They’ll break new ground today, and with a lot of luck, they may uncover a grain of sand. He snorts at the unlikely find. Still, his mood soars as he imagines it.

Yeah, give it a couple of months. One grain and he’ll be swimming in wealth. He can leave this job and even keep the ring. He’ll explore the world!

And maybe…maybe one day…

He’ll remember his name, and find what he’s lost.