Carl lay back looking up through the hole in the rotted roof. Sweat on his forehead ran down into his eyes.
The midday sun hid just outside his line of sight, burning bright and hot in a cloudless sky.
What I wouldn’t give for a cool breeze, he thought. He looked over at the defunct ceiling fan, wishing yet again that it could spin. How nice that would be, if the blades were straight and spinning, making this tropical paradise bearable.
That however was not to be. So he poured another tequila, and waited for a cool breeze to blow.
#FridayFictioneers is a weekly blog link up hosted by Rochelle over at RochelleWisoff.com. You should check out her sight and perhaps try your hand at writing a 100 word story.
Just what's lacking?
That I'm forgetting.
Once again through the list,
Maybe spot what I've missed.
And off we go down the road,
The packing story all told.
All that we've got,
And all that we lack.
Must last the weekend,
And bring us back.
Couldn’t help but put this up. As I was packing this morning, it ran through my head, and then of course, I forgot most of it. I think that it all came back in the end though.
The sun is finally out,
But not me, I'm in.
Can't be sure,
But this may be a sin.
Oh, the pull of a sun-soaked day,
Fighting the urge to go out to play.
It doesn't seem fair.
Somehow I doubt,
The bosses really care.
And so we sit and waste away,
While counting down 'til it's time to play.