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A Thirsty Day

Greg Backes gulps down the last drop of juice straight from the carton. He peers down into the small hole, hoping for some miniscule amount of orange juice to quench his parched throat. His entire block has no power due to a collapsed tree on a power line from the storm that had arrived yesterday. It is 93 degrees outside and Greg wishes to have bought the portable fan that he saw on sale last week. He sits down on his porch and sighs deeply.

“The grocery store is only 5 minutes away,” he thinks to himself. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a wad of cash, “wow, when did I get this much money?”. The clouds move away slowly as the sun scorches the earthen floor. Greg goes inside the house and retrieves a hat and decides to get some more juice. Along the way, he realizes that the streets are barren. Not a single soul is walking, most likely due to the extreme heat. The heat impacts his grasp of time and the 5 minute walk takes almost an hour.

Upon arriving at the store, he stares vacantly at the huge aisles that seem to extend over a mile in length. He asks one of the employees,

“Where can I find the juice aisle?”

“Aisle 10, on the left.”

“Thanks.”

Greg scans the signs at the top of each aisle until he reaches 10. He finds a row of orange juices in different sizes and brands. He begins to look for his favorite brand, Florida Natural. After almost 10 minutes of searching, he cannot seem to find it. There is a gap between the Minute Maid and Tropicana brands. He looks at the tag below and finds the brand Florida Natural priced at $3.17. Greg groans as he is shocked to see that his favorite drink is sold out. He reaches into the hole, hoping for one carton to compensate for his terrible day. Alas, to no avail.
Staring at the 11 other brands that are all in full stock, he reaches for a Tropicana and brings it to the cash register. He reaches into his pocket for his wad of cash but he cannot seem to find it. He checks both of his side pockets and his back pockets but still it is still lost. He thinks back to where he could have dropped it.

The clerk then interrupts him,
“Greg, wake up.”

Greg shoots up from his bed and bangs his head on the top bunk. He curses out and masks his bruised forehead as he stands up and heads for the refrigerator. While opening the door, the light inside flicks on and in the center appears a Florida Natural orange juice carton. He reaches forward and twists the cap open. He opens his mouth and clamps the opening. Alas, he lowers it down and peers into the hole, nothing came out. Empty, it poised.