The pungent, sticky downtown air tasted of hard-fried onions. Busy, stressed faces brushed by. One or two grumbled and scowled as Evie paused to read the flashing signs. Everyone was going somewhere in a hurry, if you weren’t, you were just in the way.
Evie had replayed her mother’s pleading words a hundred times over, during the long, hot journey from the Route 66 pit stop they called home.
‘He wants to see you, Evie’ her mother had said.
To Evie the man was nothing more than a blurry image, buried deep within a fading mosaic of childhood memories.
Evie sucked in nervous breath before hailing a taxi.
These words form my entry into this week’s Friday Fictioneers photo prompt challenge.