On the train to Pompei

An old refreshments seller walks into the carriage. He is overweight and his upper teeth are missing. The sweat trickles down his forehead and creates imaginary islands of sweat on his brown shirt. With a tired expression he lets down the basket with the cold drinks and leans slightly on one of the seats. He wipes his forehead, and with his crooked mouth gaping, he breathes heavily. The eyes, with the sagging eyelids, reflect his pain and exhaustion. It's hot today and the refreshments are heavy to carry. He rests for a few seconds and then briefly looks around. Nobody seems to feel as thirsty as he feels right now. But he must go on. The drinks are getting warm. He has to cover a whole train and he's only in the second carriage.