It was the end of school day and Mom forgot to pick me up.

Heat waves licked up from the asphalt and the faded cars here made everything here look like a desert mirage. I ran out into the thick of it, pushing against the soupy air like a lone soldier cutting through the jungle. I skipped across the cracked concrete with blistering bare feet, shedding my school uniform with every hop. Sweat beaded on my brow and the edge of my cupid’s bow, dripping down my face and clinging to my clothes. Waves, like fumes, rippled through the air, spitting and crackling at the nuclear welt that was the sun. I leaned against the scalding metal of a rusted car door; backpack slung half-hazardous across my shoulder as I stared up. Orange light kissed my cheeks from the baked asphalt and shimmering faded cars, the air hung sticky like swamp clinging the surface of my skin. I breathed in, and the bitter taste of gasoline and freshly cut chili peppers filled my nose.