There was a time a million years ago, or maybe it was 15-18 years ago, that I wrote a short story. It was saved on a red floppy disk and stuffed in a drawer. There may be a paper copy somewhere in a box – or maybe not.
The couple in the story lived outside of a small town in Oklahoma. It was a brutally hot summer. The temperature was so hot that the slightest movement exhausted them. The barest bit of clothing was unpleasant to wear. The touch from another person would leave a slick streak of sweat, despite how tender the intent.
Throughout the story the woman listened to the radio and read the paper in vain hope of a relieving forecast. The temperature continued to rise. Their emotional state continued to plummet.
In the end, after weeks of hundred plus degree heat, the woman was found walking the highway clad in nothing but burned skin. Delirious.
The highway is ten miles from our farm. If you see a woman parched and crazed – pick me up.
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