Crystal Taylor

The Great Dry Spell

Sweat poured down my face collecting on the collar of my shirt. The sun is being particularly brutal to us today, and the only protection I have from its harsh rays is this straw hat I found in an abandoned shop we looted about two towns over, in some place called Keats. The only thing keeping me sane on this journey is the familiar sound of Jess complaining and Campbell’s uncanny ability to ignore her so completely. This of course only makes her squawk even louder pushing me ever so closer to insanity. I couldn’t be that far off from it at this point.