Plop! The last bead of sweat wrung from my sodden brow hits the steaming hot black top. It’s summer; it’s the dog days of summer – it’s the type of summer that causes climate change deniers to bury their collective heads even deeper in the sand with the hopes of finding cooler nadirs.
Doubled over, I catch my breath momentarily before the panting returns. I’m not meant for this; I need cold beer in a semi-frozen mason jar, I need shade, I need Arsenal, I need to write.
Late afternoon walks across the car park are all like this these days. … More SMRTETA