After you swallow the sun
Archie watched intently from the burning plastic chair, meters away so that she wouldn’t spot him, but close enough that he wouldn’t lose her when she came through the arc of the clay hut. Most of the shabby tables of the outdoor bar were occupied so he wasn’t out in the open; although he was the only white, shirt-clad man there. Of everyone he suffered the most; the sun bore down on his bare head. The ground smoldered, and the loafers on his feet collected a pool of warm sweat.
