“What do you want?”
His eyes crinkled above the grizzled beard. “Another of them beers, for starters.”
I pulled a can from the six-pack and handed it to him. He sipped, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, set the beer on the tarp.
He peered into the sky. “Looks like we’re just about through with the rain, anyway.”
I jotted this down. “Did you learn a lot about the weather during your time in the jungle?”
“Weather is part of life.”
“So what is it you want?” I asked again.
“That’s never mattered. It’s what you do.”
Rochelle Wisoff-Fields hosts Friday Fictioneers, stories of 100 words or less.