Wheel

At the end of the midway stood the giant wheel. The ticket-taker was old and thin. The man stooped under a stained blue cap.

A woman walked to the gate. She stopped and smoothed her slacks. She adjusted her handbag on her shoulder, then handed her ticket to the attendant. The man made a guttural sound, and he punched a hole in the ticket.

A second man guided the woman to her seat. This man wore a red bandana and a black tee shirt. The man didn’t look up. “Just one of ya?”

She slid into the car. The man lowered the metal bar and the bar clicked and locked into place in front of her.

The cars were filled, and the wheel began to move. The riders craned their necks. The ticket-taker moved a lever forward. The woman moved upward.

Below, the midway was ablaze in neon lights. The people moved in undulating waves. The woman watched the riders above her throw their arms free as they reached the top of the wheel.

A father and son thrust their hands skyward, too. They laughed and yelled something into the night air.

Moments later, the woman reached the summit.