Desert

In blistering sun, he asked me what I wanted. I supposed he meant if I wanted a drink of water, but I could not collect any words into a coherent sentence for the life of me and soon we were just two beings sitting on smoking asphalt. A couple of ants wandered in and out of my focus. In their infinite insignificance, they too felt the heat. I took my thumb and brought it down on one of the weaker ones. Put it out of its misery. What are you doing? He asks, appalled. Relax, I said. It’s too hot.