100 Words a Day 117

It was hot. Sweat dripped from the tip of his nose, causing the cheap ink of the papers he hunched over to run as it mixed with his sweaty precipitation. The heat had been unrelenting for several days. The office manager couldn’t, or wouldn’t, do anything about it. The higher ups sat in their office, cooled by the frosty kiss of their own air conditioner, wanting for nothing. It reminded the boy of that scene from the Oliver Twist movie. He, and the rest of the boys, languished while those in charge luxuriated, and heaven forbid they ask for anything.