It had been one of those days where the end of it couldn’t have come fast enough.
The oppressive heat had sapped the life out of everyone and every beast. Even Arn’s delivery truck had given up for the day and lay stationary in the lane behind his shop waiting for a better day and a day it felt was worth the effort of ticking over its motor.
Along the lane shop keepers sat in the evening light hoping to catch any sort of breeze that would make life slightly more bearable.
The heat was forecast to continue for the rest of the week and was not a prospect any of the workers looked forward to.
Mr Johnson had found himself a spot in the middle of the lane, in the middle of the old gutter, once used to drain all the shit and refuse from the surrounding houses. He didn’t care, like everyone else he was exhausted and good sit down was all he craved.
His bookkeeper Madge Green lounged against the shop wall and complained about the heat, saying she didn’t know how she was going to sleep on such a hot night.
Eventually, Mr Johnson got up, took his chair and went inside, took a cold drink from his fridge and announced he was sleeping on the top floor as he thought there might be a cooling breeze up there.
He disappeared, and the lane went back to being its well-lit oppressive self.