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Weekly Contest #309
Khet hated the sun. It was always hot in Arasha. Waves of shimmering heat dogged his steps, magnified by a merciless sun that sat unchallenged in clear blue skies. Often, Khet had cursed the sky for its passivity. Arasha was hot enough; surely the heavens could conjure a single cloud, some meager relief for those unfortunate enough to walk the streets. The sky never listened. Khet’s suit stuck to his arms as he wound his way through narrow, choked alleyways. Arasha was an ancient city in the process of being reborn; old buildings of stone a...
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