It was a scorching mid July summer day; the thermometer read 96 degrees. “Lemonade! Get your ice cold lemonade!” shouted the boy from down the street. “Mmm” I said to myself. I wiped the heavy beats of sweat from my forehead, and parked the old beat up john deer lawn mower in the driveway.  I slowly made my way down the street toward the stand where the young entrepreneur was holding his business. My pupils grew as I starred down that glowing pitcher of liquid heaven. As I approached the stand, the boy said, “Hi mister, would you like some lemonade!?” “Puhlease” I moaned desperately. My eyes drooped down to examine the sign that read “25 cents” across it. I dug my hands into the pockets of my grass stained levis, furiously feeling around for loose change. Then, I felt the beautiful coldness of metal, and yanked out an old stained quarter from the depths of my jeans. The boy dropped 3 beautiful sparkling ice cubes in a big red cup. Following the ice, the gorgeous yellow liquid poured into the cup. I dropped the quarter on the table, and picked up the drink, chugging it down in one large gulp; a satisfied grin stretching from ear-to-ear followed that sip of my quenching savior.