September was the month that the high temperatures finally started to fall below 100 degrees in Phoenix. This morning was already warm but pleasant as Juan waited in his pickup for the mailman to drive by.
“Hola, Juan! How’re you doing?” The man driving the mail truck wasn’t really Juan’s friend. Juan’s uncle Pablo had introduced them a few weeks earlier, and they’d struck up an amicable business relationship ever since.
“Good!” Juan replied cheerfully, “Not too hot yet.”
Parked next to each other on the street, the right-sided steering wheel of the mail truck allowed the two men to easily talk face-to-face. They exchanged a few pleasantries before coming down to business.
“You delivering a lot of tortillas today?” Juan asked.
The mailman grinned. “Yeah, big deliveries today in the neighborhood between West Summerside Road and West Kachina Trail, over by the park. You should do good over there today.”
Juan thanked the man and then slipped him a fifty-dollar bill. Once the mail truck departed, Juan drove his pickup to the parking lot at Ma-Ha Tuak Park. He pulled out the bag that held his electronic tablet, slung it over his shoulder, and began walking west. He stopped every few hundred feet to open the mailboxes, looking for the distinctive envelopes with the words “Official Ballot Enclosed Do Not Delay” boldly printed in red ink.
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