“Ugh,” grunted Megan, fanning her face. “It’s so hot out here. Why didn’t you bring an umbrella like everyone else?”
“What?” asked Evan, tearing his eyes off the multi-chromatic cars speeding around the track.
“I’m hot!” she said.
Evan shrugged. “Do you want a sip of my beer?” he asked, holding up his half-filled plastic cup.
“No, I want to go home,” she said. “This is so stupid. The cars just keep going around in circles. They finish right where they start. What’s the point of that?”
“It’s called racin’,” he said, turning his attention back to the race.
Megan watched as the vehicles rounded the corner. Around and around. She began to realize her life had become like the race. Evan had no ambition. He seemed content to live in their trailer, scraping by and dulling himself with beer. He’d convinced her to quit school and take a job at the grocery store.
Around and around. She wanted so much more.
Standing, she turned to leave the grandstand.
“Where you goin’?” Evan asked.
“I’m sorry, Evan, but you were just a pit stop. It’s time I got back into my own race again.” Megan said walking away.
Word Count: 198
[This is my entry into the Sunday Photo Fiction challenge, hosted by Alastair Forbes. Write a short story of 200 words or less from the photo prompt provided.]