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Weekly Contest #314
“It was the hottest day of the year.” He said. I jab the shovel into the ground so that it stands, and dab a Versace sleeve at my brow. “What do you mean, was?” I said. “What do yous mean?” Breath heavy, I sit at the edge of the grave. “Was, Gibbs, you said it was the hottest day of the year. You do know it’s still today? We've got a lot more summer to go.” Gibbs scratches at an armpit, then resumes a position of leisure. He lies on the hood of the car, hands behind his head, sunglasses stuck to his sweat-sopped face. His circus-colored...
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