I’m standing under an awning, but the sun radiates from the concrete with searing intensity.
I casually flip my marker between the inky fingers of my right hand. Habit, I suppose. Familiarizing myself with—
I drop it.

I retrieve it.
Straightening, I adjust my blue polo and curse whoever invented the sun. I realize that person might be God, and stop cursing.
A loudspeaker shouts about staying hydrated. Too bad my bottle is empty.
In the distance, I notice someone approaching. My eyes scan the stand where I’m stationed. Easels, mats, frames, sale signs. All check.
I try to see my hair in the reflection of my watch face, but that’s no good. As for the stains of color on my slacks, well…I’ll just have to make an impression with my attitude.
They grow nearer, now. Almost here. Almost.
I hear my voice call out, automatic in its cheerfulness.

“Hey, wanna get a sketch? Only takes five minutes!”

They gaze at me, sagging eyes red from their own salty sweat.
They say nothing.
They keep walking.
They are gone.