Under the scorching heat. Where to go, where to turn. The heat penetrates my very skin from every direction, the one layer I cannot shed. Where water has escaped into the sky, I cannot follow. As I walk the dry asphalt that seems to flake, thin crisps like feathers in convection dance around my red and blistering feet. Where am I trying to go? My clothes have long burned and my skin soon to follow as the first pop and smoke of my hair ignites in red flames. I turn to see my doom as therises.