Jamie collapsed against the steering wheel, letting the diesel engine idled. Sweat poured down his neck, pooling under his hatband. AC vents blew hot air. Removing the ball cap, he tossed it on the metal cashbox on the seat next to him.
Yesterday he had reached the end of the road. He spent his last dollar to set up at the street fair. A scorcher, wrapped in humidity, fanned by the flaming grill, it was his only chance.
Exhausted, he knew he had done his best. The take was enough for tomorrow and Jamie breathed as the AC kicked in.
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Keep on writing.
Jo Hawk The Writer