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Weekly Contest #260
*This story contains themes of death and injury. I died. Cold entered my bloodstream, injected with the hardness of an iceberg covered in blood. The weatherman said it would be hot and humid on this mid-summer’s day in Europe? Mexico? Southern California? I give up. Where am I? They were never right. It was cold. Very cold. Tundra cold from where I lay on the concrete. Cars race around my silhouette, warming the pavement. I can smell the heat, intertwined with the tainted rubber, rising. Still cold. “Hey, mister, are you okay?” A bent over ...
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