It's so hot.
It's the desert, you idiot, he thinks to himself, but that doesn't help him stop panting as he heaves all of his weight against the ratchet to get the right torque on the thrust module he'd managed to find at a junkyard thirty miles out. He's not even going to think about how much he now owes his neighbor after throwing in his most recent hitched ride or about the ache still in his legs from the long hike back home after he'd realized he couldn't afford to bum another ride even if the guy would've been willing to stick around so late to pick him up.
Not that it would've been wise to invite anyone around to witness his… perhaps unscrupulous method of getting the part he needed. If no one else knows, well… it basically didn't happen. They're not going to miss one part, and for him, it's the difference between getting by and dying alone in his shack with no one any the wiser.
He'll pay it forward someday. Somehow… if he can get through this.
Berating himself doesn't stop the sweat from dripping steadily down his face either… Actually… hmm, yeah, the sweat isn't dripping down his face anymore. That symptom was covered in class before he got the boot, and it definitely isn't a good one.
Common sense says he should move inside until it cools down, get some water into his system while he waits...
But common sense has never served him well, and his gut is saying that he needs to get this bike up and running as soon as possible, before he runs out of the bottled water necessary to supplement the paltry amount he's able to pump from the well in the dead of one of the hottest summers in recent history.
It's almost done now, only a little more work to do. He'll just push himself a bit harder so he can finish a bit faster and be free of this problem once and for all.