No money

The sun kisses the gas pump and hits the old man on the bench. His pants are dark with oil and sweat. He breathes slowly. His eyes are closed.

Outside, the desert.

The car arrives, old and rusty, and the couple gets out in a hurry. They are young; eyes red, skin burned by the sun; torn clothes.

The boy starts filling up the gas tank. The girl gets close to the old man and touches his arm.

“No money” she whispers.

The old man stands up. He towers over the girl for a moment, then shuffles inside the shop, knees popping as he walks.

When the boy finishes, the old man comes back and holds out his hand. The sun catches something metal.

The boy steps backward. The girl’s eyes widen. The wind whistles through the cactuses.

But now the girl sees. She takes the bag: sandwiches and water. She nods her thanks - eyes fill with tears.

The old man sits down again. His breath is shallow. He closes his eyes.

Outside, the desert.