after a while the heat begins to feel like a tangible thing, like a burden we carry on our shoulders as we go about our days.
or maybe it’s an oozing amoeboid mass, the spawn of some alien being who visited from a faraway planet just long enough to leave it behind. it rises out of the pavement and emanates from the blinding stucco walls, entangling us in its sticky embrace. maybe that’s what it is.
the power goes out, the stoplights stare sightlessly. the apocalypse feels near like maybe we’ve trespassed against something far larger than we are. the traffic snarls and stalls, the sun beats down, impassive.
the sun sets, the heat stays. sirens whine in the distance and their cries linger in the dry air. a hot wind blows down from the hills. the leaves scrape and whisper, brown and dry like the pages of a newspaper left too long in the sun.
the heat hangs suspended in the darkness. we pace through the restless nights as the wind tells of fire. we turn to the sea hopeful, as though somewhere in it depths hides the antidote to our troubles. the infinite blue taunts, but offers no promises.
and so we wait.