The Lemonade Boy

The sun blazed directly overhead with unbearable intensity. Its rays flooded the parking lot and scorched the asphalt. The day was getting on, and last minute shoppers scurried to and fro busily around the mall. For it was new years eve and people were exuberant. There in the summer sun a destitute and despondent little boy sat, tending a homemade lemonade stand all of his own. He was bareheaded and glum for he had not sold any lemonade in all the hours he had stayed. Naturally his mother had made him wear a hat, cautioning him with all manner of warnings about sunburn and such, but alas it had blown off his head as he carried his things to the lot. Gone in a minute to a fierce wind. He had tried to run after the hat, of course, but it had flown too fast and too far. His little legs couldn't keep up and so he carried on without it. His blonde mop of unkempt hair did little to stifle the piercing torridness and soon he grew terribly hot and terribly bothered. In front of him, perched atop a tidy plastic table sat his stock. Sparkling glasses of sunny lemonade lined up in neat little rows. The boy was very proud of his lemonade stand, and kept it very clean, but no one had bought any drinks from him all afternoon, not a single drop.

Baking away in the relentless heat, the boy felt awfully dizzy. He toiled away ever still, sitting up right and alert on his solid little stool, ready to barter his lemonade to any would-be buyers. A picture of dogged persistence. The sweat dripped down his forehead and curled around his bright little eyes, plopping without a sound onto the scorching tarmac to fizzle and fester. The boy looked around in a daze, around him people hurried about, into and out of the mall at a rapid pace. Everywhere around him storefronts and billboards advertised beautiful seaside summers and tropical paradise. Yes, he would think of that!

Behind his sturdy little stand, the boy wilted. His skinny little shoulder drooped and his slight back hunched forwards as if to escape the heat. He grew hotter still and blinked his eyes desperately around, looking for a shaded refuge from the merciless sun. To his dismay his tired eyes saw no such respite, and he gritted his teeth to resist the heat. His neck was burning badly but he couldn't bear the thought of returning home empty handed, with naught but a single penny to his name and nigh a glass sold. Besides, he had resolved to sell some lemonade, and some lemonade he would sell! He sat up straighter still, cupping his hands around an icy glass to defy the heat perforating through his clammy skin. Oh dear, how he wished for some shade, thinking wistfully of his cozy little home where his bright and cheery mother was waiting expectantly.

Oh how awfully horrid it was, his head was positively sweltering. The boy felt sure he wouldn't be able to stay out much longer. Oh how he wanted a glass of refreshing lemonade, so icy and cold to soothe his woozy head. His fingers stretched towards the drinks, curling and itching like creeping roots to water. He licked his cracked lips and breathed a sickly rasping breath in anticipation.

The lemonade trickled delightfully down his throat, so icy-cool and vitalizing. He practically shivered in his pleasure. The boy winced momentarily at the thought of having wasted a drink, But the thought quickly faded and he raised the glass once more to his parched lips, drinking greedily. Within a minute the glass of lemonade was no more, and all that remained was a sticky residue around the boys lips and a faint watermark from the glass, quickly fizzling away on the little table. He sat back, his thirst somewhat satiated from the refreshing glass, and glanced towards a large billboard sitting outside the lot, directly ahead of him. The sunny beach seemed to swim before his eyes, and he could have sworn a cool breeze was blowing overhead. The boy put the now empty glass of lemonade down and stretched his hands out to grasp the sand before his eyes, oh how wonderful it would feel to run his hands through the golden sands and feel it trickle through his fingers.

Just as he was about to grab a warm grainy handful, he blinked - and the embrace of the sunny beach flickered out of view. He was left staring at a scorching hot parking lot, entirely alone. Staring down sadly at his lemonade stand, he wept silently. Licking at the salty tears trickling down his pudgy, blistering cheeks. After a long moment the boy looked up and rubbed his knuckles across his eyes, faintly surprised to feel they were already nearly dry.

He glanced upwards towards the sun, dispirited to find it still hanging there like a [DUNNO]. Squinting, he cast his eyes downwards to avoid the blaring rays. Of course, the boy's eyes focused on the gleaming glasses of lemonade once again. And with nothing else to do, and the oppressive summer sun beating down; he timidly grasped another glass. The lemonade washed away his ailments with a revitalizing icy bite. A chilled wave that spread down, through his throat and into the tips of his fingers and toes like a glowing aura.

Curiously though, it did nothing to settle the maddening headache beating a furious pace in his head, nor did it slow the quaky pounding in his chest. More frightening still, the boy found that he could not move. His hands shook and his legs twinged with a terrible cramping feeling. It took all his effort to place the now-empty glass of lemonade back down on the table. There it sat, a mirror image of the first glass, now bone dry with no trace of the lemonade it previously held. Not even a single drop. He felt sick to his stomach and clenched his abdomen, grimacing.

The drink was hopeless. Futile. He felt as thirsty as ever, and lemonade didn't seem to do anything to quench the sickening feeling spreading through his body. Nor did it seem to chill his burning skin like the first glass.

The boy gazed around uncomprehendingly. Eyes blurry and unfocused. His neck seared awfully and his mind toiled and tumbled within itself. He didn't know if it could get much more unbearable then this. He swiped one clammy hand across his forehead shakily, feeling more and more bleary. His eyes fuzzed. His head murky.

But with a faint, and curious pop, he was free.

Free as a bird, he stepped outside of himself. The shackles of cramped limbs and that awful bloated feeling seemed to melt away. Better yet, with great delight he realized he did not feel so hot anymore. Curiously he felt...not quite right, and with a shiver he hugged his arms around himself. Floating forward out of the mist, he looked upon a boy very much like himself, a shock of blonde hair and pudgy little legs sticking at odd angles under a small plastic table. And upon that table, little rows of lemonade glasses, shining like bright yellow sunflowers in the sky. Two empty glasses sat apart from the rest. With a start, he realized he was looking at himself! Surprisingly, the thought did not shake him, and he drifted forwards. Closer still to the little lemonade boy.

A bitter cold enveloped him now, nipping at his ears and biting painfully into his ethereal flesh. He shuddered dreadfully, the calm moment broken in an instant. He looked up once, tears clouded his eyes, and with but a single sigh he was away. Succumbing to the searing midsummer heat.