Ben was dead tired. He had to pull a double shift when Clyde called in sick. It was almost midnight and nobody else was around except for Lin, who was working the hot dog and pretzel stand, and she had started to pack up for the night.
In just a few minutes the lights around the avant-garde sculpture in the courtyard of the Museum of Modern Art would be turned off and he could go home.
Oh wait. Ben almost forgot he had agreed to take the midnight shift at that after hours club in Harlem. “Life sucks,” he thought.
Written for this week’s Friday Fictioneers prompt from Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Photo credit: Roger Bultot.