The car journey made Ava nauseated. It was this smell, some odor that secreted from the decor of the car. The seats of imitation leather made her bare thighs sweaty. The knowledge that the target of the trip, the endless hours that they were going to spend at the boatyard, her father busy mending the cruiser while she walked around amongst the other powerboats, was as boring as the journey it self, made her shiftless. Why did she come at all?
On the way back her father halted the car at the trading post, kept the motor running, turned over and handed her some coins.
“Buy yourself an ice cream. And don’t forget the evening paper.”