Enemy Sun

The sun erupted through the door like an invader, my only defense being my pasty white arm covering my eyes. I curled my lip and hissed. Even with my eyes closed, the searing blanket of white-hot light seared my eyeballs. The pain subsided and I was able to squint a little through the pain. The heat oppressed me from above, reflecting off of all parts of my body. Below, the concrete absorbed its malice, becoming progressively hotter as the day went forth. The slog to the front yard lasted an eternity. My greasy hair, already matted to my face from the sweat, was cooking my forehead. I reached for the mailbox, scorching my hand, pulling it open fast, and then waving my hand and blowing on it. A few expletives burst from my mouth, but they only made me feel more exhausted. I took the mail and used it like a glove to close the traitorous mailbox once again. The front door beckoned in the distance, a gateway to the tantalizing promise of air-conditioned rooms. It shimmered in the heat like a mirage. My feet scraped across the Hellscape, getting ever closer to the door. My hand reached for the knob, reaching ever closer. It took me a second to register the heat on my hand, my brain almost disbelieving it. My eyes wept boiling tears. Et tu, doorknob? Et tu?


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Filed under Flash Fiction, Session XXII

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