The fair spun that way. Then that way. Then another way.
The girls worked that way for hours, the heat of the day, and the fryers loosening their bodies’ hold on their spirits such that the girls floated beyond the carnival to other places and times.
Jerry tapped Sher on the shoulder. “Break,” he said. “Ten. Not a second more.”
He took over her line, scooped a small fry, and handed it to her.
“Thanks,” Sher mumbled and then felt stupid for being polite to a jerk. What was happening to her? She poured a Coke. Kristin was still working so Sher walked to the east side of the shed. The only shaded spot. Sher sat, dug her heels into the dirt, and ate the fries while looking out over an empty, cleared area where, unknown to Sher and largely forgotten by those who had seen it, fourteen years
