The car jolted on a pothole, and the Ambassador feared he might lose his excellent lunch. The trouble with the poor, he thought, is they have such bad roads. He made a note to work the conversation over dinner.
Hernan, riding shotgun in the front, fretted. “Why aren’t you taking the expressway?”
“Calm yourself,” said Simon. “We’ll return that way, so the Ambassador gets to his cocktail party. The route out offers sensuous contact with poverty. If he doesn’t get shit on his shoe, he won’t feel the adventure. And without that, he won’t fund the project.”
Friday fictioneers is a weekly challenge to write a 100-word story in response to a photo prompt. You can find other stories here