A short, short fictional story.
It was the summer of 2012. It was hot. 97 degrees.
Plenty of sunlight left and no where to be.
The gas we had in the car needed to be used sparingly. Pay day was four whole days away.
As I slept under this tree, car parked nearby, Mom kept tapping me. Telling me to wake up. For what reason I don’t know. But I was annoyed after the fifth time.