A. C. J. Walker

On the Fence

Steam rose off the pavement as the sun beat down hotter than ever, angry that the rain had tried to provide some relief to the wasteland below. A gangly young boy wearing an orange bandana, a sweat stained button down, and dirty sneakers strode down the cracked highway with a grin on his face. The energy-draining humidity didn’t bother him one bit. Steam meant rain had just passed through. Rain meant clean water. The only clean water available these days.