Mom swore at the red light. We’d gotten up at two for the annual buying frenzy. She wanted to be first in line.
We were second. Another family shivered on the sidewalk in front of the doors.
“That woman has no sense,” Mom spat.
We brought lawn chairs and sleeping bags. Money in my fist, I counted the dollars and cents.
More people came. I dozed off, snug in my bag. I woke later, the sky lighter, the air filled with the scents of tobacco and sewage.
We’re going to score some sweet deals today, Mom sent on her smartphone.
(100 word flash)
Prompt from LindaGHill.